


The Outstation

by CabbageOriley



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Anniversary of the Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Fire department, Firefighter Derek Hale, Firefighters, M/M, Post-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Pre-Relationship, Secret Relationship, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbageOriley/pseuds/CabbageOriley
Summary: Stiles is the newest hire at the Beacon Hills Fire Department.  What will happen when he gets stationed at the outstation referred to as the Hale Hole?  He's going to die, that's what.  He's going to die and... fall in love?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 299





	1. Welcome to Hale

Stiles lifts the strap of his duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder and sighs as he stands outside the brick building. It takes a moment to steady himself before he feels like he is ready to enter. Boyd and Erica have the day off today, so he will have literally no one to watch his back. It’s bad enough when Boyd is there to stand up for him, but without him… Stiles doesn’t even want to think about what’s in store for the day.

“Hey, Marco,” Stiles smiles as he sees another trainee walking toward him.

“Hey, Stilinski,” Marco stops beside Stiles for a moment on his way to his car. “Watch out for Whittemore today. He came in half an hour early to shift just to get ready for you.”

“Great…” Stiles nods. “Can’t wait.”

“See ya.”

Stiles doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

\---

After throwing his duffle in his locker, it doesn’t take long to prep his uniform and make his way to the apparatus room to start checking the trucks. Most of the guys are already half way through the truck check, but being the newbie, Stiles has to work on the old rundown fire truck that they never actually use. It’s a pointless job, but they make him do it every single shift. He starts opening compartments and running through the checklist he has already memorized.

Making his way to the back compartments, he unlatches the hose deck and starts to pull the door up. It’s in that same instant the door moves up on its own and Whittemore lunges out with a scream. Stiles flails backward screeching loud enough to wake the dead. The entire room erupts into laughter, all at his expense.

“Jackson! I swear to…” Stiles starts only to be interrupted by a sudden silence. He looks to his right and can see the Chief stepping out of his office. Arms crossed. Unhappy.

“Stilinski. My office. Now.”

\---

Stiles trudges across the apparatus room toward the Chief’s office. He knocks softly on the door before opening it. “Chief Argent?”

“Come in, Stiles.” Chief Argent moves behind his desk and sits down.

Stiles closes the door and moves to sit down as well.

“Stiles, I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Do with me?!” Stiles shrieks. “They’re the ones picking on me, and I’m the one in trouble?!”

“Don’t yell at me, Stilinski.” He leans back and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Kid, you’re here because I was best friends with your dad for half my life. I owed him a favor. But, this is turning into too much.”

“Again, not my fault. It’s Whittemore and his goons.”

“They prank you because they know you’ll react. You’re an easy target, even I have to admit.” He sighs again. “You’ve made some connections with Boyd and Reyes, but with the others… Stiles, you haven’t even tried. We’re supposed to be a brotherhood.”

“They won’t give me a chance! I trip on the hose on my first day, and they won’t let it go. I ruined any chance of respect from them before my first day was even over. I became the joke. Newbie who can’t even walk straight, and I’ll never live it down.”

“I don’t want to have to do this…”

“Chris, please. Give me another chance.”

“Good grief, kid. I’m not firing you, just listen.” Argent stands and walks over to the shift board. “Headquarters isn’t working out for you. It’s just too much for the other guys. They can’t handle their work when they’re focusing on you.”

“Again, not my fault.”

Chris continues without stopping. “We’re short staffed this go around. Boyd and Reyes are off on their four day kelly. And, we just got a driver who called in sick from an outstation. We don’t have the funds for anymore overtime.”

“And…”

“I have to send someone from Headquarters to cover the station. You’re the newest of the new hires on duty today, so it’s you.”

“Okay, so…” Stiles smiles. “This is good. This is a good thing. I get away from Whittemore and his crew of idiots. Why don’t you want to do it? I swear I’m ready! I’ve been on this department for six whole months now. I can do it! Please, Chris.”

Chris drops his head. “It’s Station 4.”

Stiles freezes. “No.”

“Yes, Stiles. I’m sorry. I don’t want to…”

“Then don’t. Please, no. Anywhere but there.”

“I said I don’t want to have to do it. But, you’re the newest hire.”

“So, low man on the totem pole gets sacrificed?!”

Chris rolls his eyes. “It’s only for this go around. Three shifts.”

“I’ve heard plenty of stories about that station in the time I’ve been here. People go running and screaming from the building. Those that survive that is.”

“It’s not THAT bad…”

Stiles waves his hands in the air. “Chris, you’re out of your mind! There’s no way… He’ll kill me! He’ll smell the fresh meat and attack!”

“Stiles. It’s three shifts. Just go. Do your job. Mind your own business. You’ll be fine.” He motions for Stiles to stand. “You’ve got to be there by radio check. That’s thirty minutes. Grab your gear and get going.”

Stiles stands and moves toward the door.

“You’ll be in my prayers, kid.”

\---

A crowd gathers as the other firefighters realize Stiles is packing up his gear. Whittemore leans against the row of lockers with a smirk.

“Chief finally come to his senses and fire your clumsy rear?”

“No,” Stiles straightens as he lifts his gear onto his back. “He’s sending me to a station.”

“Yeah right,” Whittemore hisses.

“I’m serious. He trusts that I’m ready. He knows I’m good at my job.”

“What station is it,” Greenburg leers.

“St…” Stiles swallows his nerves. “Station 4.”

The crowd of men is eerily silent. Even Whittemore has turned pale. Stiles quietly moves past them and walks toward the door.

As the men recover from their stupor, Stiles can hear them begin to chant after him. It begins as a whisper and then grows and grows. “Hale Hole… Hale Hole… Hale Hole… Hale Hole…”

\---

They call Station 4 the Hale Hole for a reason. The captain has been described as the devil himself. No one lasts more than a few shifts without calling in sick, asking for a transfer, or quitting their job entirely. And, these aren’t just rumors created by Jackson Whittemore and his jerk squad to scare the new hires. Even Boyd and Erica have warned him of the horror stories of the Hale Hole. Even the chief was reluctant to send Stiles out.

He’s dead meat. He can feel it already. This is his last day to live. Goodbye cruel world.

He parks his Jeep in the parking lot and gathers all his bags of gear. Looking up at the building is like looking up at the Grinch’s lair. He’s never met the mysterious recluse. The guy never comes to lunches or events at Headquarters. He never does anything with any of the other guys. It’s been said that he even locks up his food so none of the others take it. Even the ketchup. Like anyone in their right mind would steal anything from a man described as having a personality like hell on earth.

Stiles realizes he’s still standing in the parking lot when the door to the station opens. He gasps as he hears the crunch of boots on the sidewalk. Standing at the door is a mountain of a man. Broody, dark hair and eyes. At least two days worth of scruffy beard showing even though firemen aren’t allowed to have facial hair. You see, your mask doesn’t seal right if there’s hair in the way…

“It’s 7:30!”

Stiles snaps out of his thoughts. He swallows and hurries to the door. He plasters a smile on his face and holds out his hand. “Hey! I’m…”

“Stilinski. You’re late.” The grump of a man walks back through the door without a single word more, leaving Stiles alone on the doorstep.

Stiles sighs and hangs his head. “Welcome to Hale.”


	2. Street Smarts

Stiles drops his bag just inside the living space and hurries after Hale who is already slamming the apparatus room door. He flings the door open and rushes to the hooks where he’ll need to hang his gear.

“I’m not late.”

“You wouldn’t have been late if you weren’t standing out in the lot like an idiot for five minutes.”

Stiles clenches his jaw but takes it without retort. “I’m not late until radio check.”

“Check was at 7:30. I told them you weren’t here.” The man says as he shuts the hose compartment on the back of the truck and walks away once again.

“You what?!” Stiles rushes back inside to the office. “You saw me in the parking lot and still said I wasn’t here?!” He dials headquarters and waits for the chief to pick up. “Chris, I’m here. I swear I was on time!”

“He said you were standing in the lot like an idiot.”

“Well… I was standing there. Not like an idiot, though.” Stiles looks out the window into the apparatus bay and glares at Hale’s back. “Chris, I was here. I swear.”

\---

He talks on the phone with Chief Argent for two minutes tops, but when he looks up again he almost has a heart attack. Standing in the window is the creature that is Captain Hale. Glaring through the window.

“Holy crap!” Stiles shouts as he jerks backward and crashes into the rolling desk chair. The man just motions with his thumb for Stiles to get out there.

“I was coming!” Stiles grumbles as he goes back into the apparatus room.

“We’re behind.”

“Behind doing what?” Stiles asks.

“Truck. Check it. Now.”

“Didn’t you already do it before I got here? I saw you with the hose…”

“You drive. It’s your truck. Check it.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

\---

Stiles nervously knocks on the bedroom door. He pops his head in the door and looks around for his captain. “Captain Hale?” He’s not there. Stiles continues to search the station and can’t find him anywhere. Not the living room, not the kitchen… Stiles goes back out to the truck and opens the door to the cab.

“GAHHHHHHH! Holy… Oh my gosh!” Stiles grabs his chest as he backs away from the truck. Eyes still peering at him from the darkness inside the driver’s compartment. “What the… why the heck are you sitting inside the truck? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Hale uncrosses his arms and turns his legs to jump down from the truck. “Why were you looking for me?”

“To… to tell you I was finished checking the truck,” Stiles stutters.

“Did you find me?”

“Not until now,” Stiles points to the cab.

“Then, you weren’t finished with the truck.”

Stiles stands gaping like a fish as the man turns and walks away.

\---

Stiles hears footsteps approaching the kitchen as he finishes scrambling some eggs. He freezes and looks at the doorway.

“Eggs.”

Stiles looks from the man to his breakfast and back again. “Yes. My breakfast.”

“They’ll be cold.”

“No…” Stiles is cut off.

“We don’t eat here until the chores are done.” Captain Hale motions for Stiles to follow him.

Stiles sighs and leaves his eggs behind. “What chores? I already checked the truck, my gear is ready, my bed is made…”

“At this station, we wash the truck, wash the floors, wash the dishes, and drive our district before we have breakfast.”

“What?!”

“You can keep complaining, or you can get started.” Hale moves toward the sink. “I’ll do the dishes while you wash the truck and the floors.”

“But…” the complaint dies in Stiles’ throat as he sees the glare on the other man’s face.

At the captain’s direction, Stiles scrubs the firetruck by hand. He cleans every inch of the tile and concrete floors. Even sweeps the carpeting in the living area and the bedroom.

As he finishes, his heart attack is slightly smaller when he sees Hale standing watching him. He finishes rolling up the vacuum cord. “I’m done.”

“Get in the truck.”

\---

Stiles freezes behind the steering wheel. In his six months on the department he has practiced driving the trucks at least thirty times, but he’s never been in charge of it. If they have a fire during this shift, he’ll be responsible for getting the truck there in time. And, if the fire is in their district, they’ll have to be the first ones there. It’s a lot of responsibility, and in short, he’s petrified.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles jumps. He reaches out a shaky hand and starts the truck. It comes to life with a rumble.

Hale pinches the bridge of his nose as if putting up with Stiles is physically painful for him. “Drive the district. This is our territory. We’re going around the entire border to check it.”

“Wh… Why?” Stiles takes a glance at the man in the passenger seat.

“Stop stuttering and do it.”

Stiles swallows, and slowly pulls out of the driveway.

“Call off station,” Hale barks.

Stiles jumps yet again and keys the radio. “Rescue 4 off station.”

Whittemore is the one to respond. Thinks he’s big stuff being shift leader. “What for?”

“Um…” Stiles hesitates. “Check… Checking the route.”

“The route to what?” Whittemore laughs and keys off the radio.

Stiles hangs his head. He’s surrounded by jerks. He does a fairly good job of driving around the dividing line of Station 4’s district. It isn’t until they’re almost back to the station that he freezes.

“There’s a fire at 402 Elm Street. Go.”

“What?” Stiles asks.

“402 Elm. Go!”

“But, there’s… there’s not… there hasn’t been a call.” Stiles legs shake as he sits in his seat.

“They’ll die unless you get there. Lights on. Sirens on. Go.”

Stiles swallows and does as he’s told.

\---

Stiles slams on the brakes in front of a house near the end of Elm Street. Hale jumps out his door. Stiles just sits there. He has never been so confused in his life. And petrified. He’s still petrified.

He shouts when his door swings open.

“If I’m supposed to take command of the scene, I need my truck ready. Get out!”

Stiles jumps out of the truck.

“Prep the truck. Get the hose.”

Stiles runs to the side of the truck but motions to the house. “But, there’s… Captain Hale… there’s no…”

“NOW!”

Stiles moves to the side of the truck and secures the hose. He has his hand on the water lever when Hale finally stops him.

He pushes a button on a stopwatch and pushes it into Stiles’ face. “Ten minutes. They’re dead. Congratulations.”

Stiles looks around at the crowd that has gathered to watch the spectacle happening in their street.

“Captain Hale… I don’t understand…”

“Roll the hose and get in the truck,” he growls.

And again, Stiles does as he’s told.

\---

When Stiles gets back in the driver’s side of the truck, he nervously looks over at the older man.

“What did you do wrong?”

Stiles shakes his head.

“Start the truck and get us back to station.”

“Yes, sir.” Stiles starts the engine and heads back toward Station 4. They drive in silence. Stiles guides the truck into the apparatus bay and turns off the engine. As he moves to open his door, his Captain’s voice stops him.

“What did you do wrong?”

“I… Sir, I…”

“Stop stuttering and answer me.”

Stiles swallows. “I don’t know, Captain Hale.”

“How many streets are between the station and Elm?” Hale glares at Stiles.

“Four.”

“Three,” he growls. “Poplar is a half street and goes one way. You took it for no reason and had to backtrack. If you had turned on Maple at 3rd, you would have come out right beside 402 Elm.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Four minutes wasted going in a circle and freezing once we arrived on scene.”

“But, there was no…”

“Good thing there wasn’t. Family of four would have been dead because you didn’t know the fastest way to their house. Spent more time stuttering and questioning your superior officer than actually trying to save lives.”

Stiles drops his head.

“Get out of my sight.”

Stiles bites his lip to keep from crying. “Yes, sir.” Stiles walks into the station kitchen and stares at the cold eggs in the skillet. He walks them over to the trash can and throws them away. He drops the pan in the sink and begins to walk out of the room. He freezes when he hears the Captain’s voice once again.

“Dishes are to be done immediately. I don’t want to see anything left in the sink.”

Stiles nods and goes back to clean it up.


	3. Go with the Flow

By three o’clock Stiles is absolutely exhausted. Apparently, it’s another rule in the Hale Hole, that you can’t relax until three o’clock. Okay, actually he thinks that’s the rule everywhere, but no one actually does it. Stiles sits down in one of the La-Z-boys and checks his phone. He has a couple of texts from Erica asking how he’s doing. He replies that he’s partnered with the devil himself and laughs at the gif she sends back.

He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he jumps out of his skin when he hears an air horn being blown.

“917 Parker Place. Go!”

‘This guy’s insane,’ Stiles thinks to himself as he runs to the truck.

“Gear!” Hale marches around and watches as Stiles backtracks and steps into his gear.

Stiles rushes to the driver’s door and launches himself inside. This time, he doesn’t hesitate. He just floors it and goes.

“Call off station.”

“And what the freak am I supposed to say,” he whispers under his breath, but again does as he’s told. He’s thankful the chief answers this time and simply clears them. No explanation needed.

He tries to plan his route in his mind as he guides the truck to Parker Place. At the last minute he whips the truck onto Eastgate Drive.

“Why Eastgate?” The man huffs.

“Because I remembered there’s some construction ahead on 11th. It will be quicker to bypass that and turn up on Schaeffer.”

Captain Hale simply nods.

When they finally make it to Parker Place, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to jump out of the truck and prep the hose. Again, Hale stops his timer when Stiles has his hand on the water lever.

He doesn’t say much. “Clean up.”

\---

Stiles gets everything back into the truck. He waves at the neighborhood who has come out to watch what’s happening. Then, he gets back in the truck. It’s silent for most of the ride. Captain Hale starts to open his door when they’re back in the bay.

“So, did they live?” Stiles hoarsely calls out.

Captain Hale pauses just enough to say, “Barely,” before leaving.

Stiles releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and scrubs a hand over his face.

\---

Stiles sleeps through dinnertime. He doesn’t feel like getting up and fixing anything.

\---

To say he’s thankful when his shift ends at 7:00 the next morning is an understatement. But to say he’s dreading the next shift is even moreso. He heads straight to Station 4 and has his gear prepped and everything ready before shift change. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to make the best impression he can. He gets started checking the truck as the guys from the previous shift pack up their belongings. They have some small talk, but as soon as they hear the door open, the two men make a break for it.

Captain Hale pauses at the apparatus room door and watches Stiles thoughtfully. Stiles drops the sponge back into the bucket and turns his attention to the man.

“I’ve already checked the truck. Everything’s good to go.”

Hale nods.

“I’ll be done washing in about twenty or so. Then, I’ll start on the floors. Assuming you’re still doing the dishes.”

Hale again just nods and turns around back into the station.

\---

“700 North Anderson”

“313 Posey Avenue”

“1195 Persimmon”

Stiles smiles as he pulls back into the station. He’s proud of himself for how quickly he got to all the pretend scenes. He doesn’t feel as nervous as he did on day one. If there was a real fire, he feels like he could handle it. “Any casualties today?” he jokes.

Hale gives him that thoughtful look again. He shakes his head. “No.”

Stiles pumps his fist. Then, he reaches over the center console for a high five. Hale just glares at him and moves to get out of the truck. 

Just like the first shift, Stiles doesn’t see much of the Captain for the rest of the evening. He secludes himself in the bedroom and doesn’t appear until bedtime. When Stiles gets ready to lie down himself, the captain leaves the room and doesn’t come back. By the time Stiles wakes in the morning, Hale is already gone.

—-

Shift number three. Stiles actually isn’t that worried. The Captain is a bit harsh, but he’s not really as bad as everyone said. If he keeps working hard, he’s sure he’ll win him over completely. Again, Stiles shows up a bit early and immediately starts working on the truck. He gets into a groove and loses track of time. He hurries to finish the floors and goes back out to meet Hale by the truck. But, Hale isn’t there. 

Stiles waits for a few minutes, but his Captain never appears. He finally decides to go find him. When he does, he sees him standing in front of the sink staring out the window.

“Sir?” Stiles asks. When he doesn’t move, he tries again. “Captain Hale?”

The Captain turns and looks at Stiles. 

“I’m finished with the truck and the floors. Are you ready to check the territory?”

Without a word Captain Hale goes to the apparatus room and gets in the truck. Stiles follows and hops into the driver’s side. He starts the engine, calls off station, and makes the lap around Station 4’s district. He slows as he gets closer to the station and waits for his directions. 

They never come. 

“Where’s the fire today?”

“No fires today. Go back to the station.” The captain’s voice is low. Almost a whisper. 

Okay, this is weird. Stiles pulls back into the station. He exits the truck and walks around to the other side. He’s ready to open the door into the living area when he realizes Hale is still in the truck. He looks up into the window in the truck door. 

“Captain Hale?” He continues to stare straight ahead. “Sir, are you okay?”

The Captain finally opens his door. “Fine.” He walks past Stiles and slams the bedroom door shut behind him. 

—-

Stiles doesn’t know whether to be worried for himself or for the Captain. He keeps assuming Hale is waiting to catch him off guard, but no surprise scenario ever comes. It’s almost dinner time and he hasn’t been out of the bedroom all day. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. “Captain Hale? Are you okay?” He begins to open the door but jolts when a siren blares to life.

Captain Hale practically pulls the door off its hinges in his hurry to get to the truck. He races past Stiles. Stiles has to shake himself from his stupor before he hurries to the truck as well.

He should have known it was coming. Two whole shifts without a fire run was too lucky. No way he could get through a whole go around without one. He feels himself shaking as he radios off station and heads in the direction of the call. 

“Lights” Hale reminds him. Stiles flips them on in an instant.

Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s chewing nervously on his lip until he tastes blood. The fire is right on the edge of their district. He barely beats Station 3 to the scene. Captain Hale takes charge of the scene as Stiles preps the hose. 

He runs back to the side of the truck and pulls the water valve. It won’t move. 

Stiles panics. He pulls the valve again, and again it won’t budge.

“Where’s my water?!” Hale yells back to him. 

“I can’t turn the valve!”

“What do you mean you can’t turn the valve?!” Hale growls. “Just turn it!”

Stiles tries again, but it will not move. He barely registers movement beside him before he’s being pushed out of the way. “Get out of the way!” Hale pulls out on the lever and then forces it down. Instantly water begins to fill the hose. Stiles stands by the truck and watches the other fire fighters work on knocking down the flames. 

—-

Two hours later, they’re heading back to the station. They ride in silence. Stiles shakily gets out of the truck. Before he can even move to grab his gear, Hale has grabbed him by the collar and shoved him against the truck.

“What the heck was that?!”

Stiles gulps and warily meets the man’s eyes. It looks like the fire from the house is still burning within his eyes. 

“I… it was my first… it was my first real fire.” He looks away unable to bear the force of Hale’s glare. “The Chief even said…”

“The chief even said what? Said it would have been the same result?”

“He said it didn’t… it didn’t make much difference to the outcome.”

“What kind of fireman doesn’t know how to turn the water on?!”

“We… we never practiced that part.”

The older man slams his fist into the truck beside Stiles’ head. Stiles flinches. “So, it’s my fault that we never practiced that far?!”

“No… I didn’t… I don’t mean…”

“Practice it now.” Captain Hale grabs Stiles’ arm and pulls him to the side of the truck where all the mechanics are. “Pull the lever out, then down.”

Stiles holds out a shaking hand.

“Now!”

Stiles yelps and grabs the water lever. He pulls it out and down. Hale swats his hands away and then pushes the lever back into position. “Do it again!”

Stiles pulls the lever out and down. Again Hale pushes it back into position. “You will do it until it’s automatic.”

Stiles pulls the lever out and down. 

“Faster!”

“I can do it now,” Stiles whispers. 

“Do it again!” Hale yells into his ear. “Faster! Everything lost in that fire is on you. Because you couldn’t turn the water on!”

Stiles doesn’t realize he’s crying until Hale points it out.

“Do you think your tears make a difference? Can your tears put out a fire?!”

“No sir… I…”

“Shut up and start the water. Pull the lever and push it down! Now!” Captain Hale screams. “They have their home because of everyone ELSE who showed up to actually do their job. But what did they lose?”

Stiles stops to wipe snot and tears from his face. 

“What did they lose? Faith that the first truck there is ready! Did you see the burning boxes of family pictures? Did you see those smoldering memories they’ll never get back? See them as you were standing frozen by the truck you can’t even work?!?!”

Stiles tries to speak but nothing comes out. 

“Start the water! Pull it out. Push it down!” Hale slams his fist into the truck again. “Do it until you get it right!”

—-

When Captain Hale finally walks away, Stiles sinks down to his knees and sobs. He’s so physically and mentally exhausted he can’t move. The burning in his hand pulls his attention. He looks at his hand and sees that the repeated motion has rubbed the skin off the heel of his palm and has started blisters. 

He forces himself to stand and goes into the bathroom to clean up. If he hears whimpering coming from the bedroom, he ignores it. He doesn’t care. 


	4. Not a Chance

“Stilinski…” Captain Hale’s voice follows him like a ghost. He doesn’t turn around. He walks out the door and straight to his Jeep.

Heavy boots crunch into the gravel of the parking lot. Stop behind the baby blue vehicle. Stiles barely misses them as he rolls into reverse, shifts gear, and flies off the property.

\---

Stiles sits on his couch for a long time. Staring into space. Mind too filled with thoughts of the night before. He can’t help but replay everything that happened. With a deep breath he comes to the realization that everything Hale said was right. Harsh, yes. Borderline psychotic, yes. True… yes.

Stiles has always felt worthless. It’s the running theme of his life. Nothing that has happened in his life has helped him see the contrary.

The couch becomes his home for several hours. Several days.

It’s on the last day of kelly, his four shifts off, that Scott knocks on the door. Stiles forces himself up off the couch and leans heavily on the doorframe as he opens the door of his apartment.

“Dude, you stink.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Good to see you too.”

Scott squeezes past him and flops down on the couch. “Have you even left this room since it happened?”

Stiles tries to disagree with him but ends up just shrugging his shoulders. He sits down on the couch beside his best friend.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The brunet asks.

Stiles vehemently shakes his head. “Absolutely not. Dude, that was the worst experience of my life. I’ve already told you everything, and I don’t want to relive it again.”

“Okay,” Scott nods. “So… we can open this up to… other subjects?”

Stiles thinks the look of hope in his friend’s eyes is absolutely disgusting. He throws his head back on the back of the couch and whines. “No, Scotty. The chief’s daughter has not been to headquarters to visit him. She has not asked about you. She has not…”

“How do you know she hasn’t been there? You’ve been at the Hale Hole for three shifts.”

“Trust me,” Stiles assures him. “Boyd and Erica are as deeply invested in this issue as I am. They would have told me if she suddenly turned up to confess her undying love for you.”

“You sure?”

Stiles can’t help but laugh at the puppy dog look on his best friend’s face.

“Positive.”

\---

Walking into Headquarters the next day doesn’t seem half as bad as it felt before his time at the Hale Hole. He smiles when he sees Erica with a bundle of balloons that say “Welcome Home!” He gladly accepts her hug.

“Erica, I’ve never been so happy to see your face!” Stiles fist bumps Boyd and sits down at the table in the kitchen to talk to them both. Erica hangs on every word. Boyd looks like he wants to rip throats.

Barely registering the squeak of shoes behind him, Stiles startles when one of his balloons bursts right above his head. “Sheezeee!” he yells. He turns in time to see Whittemore doubled over in laughter. He ignores him, but turns back to Erica. “You know it was bad when I can say I missed that swamp creature.”

Whittemore hisses as he walks back out to join his goons in the living room.

“So,” Erica says. “It really is as bad as the rumors?”

“Worse.” Stiles shakes his head. “I will never go back there. I’ll quit first.”

\---

“I quit!” Stiles shouts.

“Stiles,” Chief Argent holds out a calming hand. “You’re not quitting.”

“Even after I told you what he did to me, you still plan on sending me back out there?!” Stiles stomps his foot in the middle of the closed office. “Chris!!!”

“In this office, I am Chief Argent to you.” He stands and again tries to placate the boy. “I. Am. Sorry. But, it is beyond my control. You are the newest hire. Allen just sent in his resignation.”

“Well,” Stiles flails, “I am too! I can’t go back there, Chr… Chief. He’s a psychopath!” The fight suddenly goes out of him and he sinks into a chair. “Sir, it’s worse than the rumors could possibly ever be. Please, sir. I’m begging you. Don’t send me back there.”

“It’s not permanent. Only until we get through the hiring process. I’ve got to replace Ramierez, O'laughlin, and now Allen.”

“You do realize all three guys were stationed with Hale before they quit, right?” Stiles swings his arm in the air. “The answer to your problem is to get rid of the demon at Station 4 before he makes anyone else quit.”

“You can do this, Stiles. A few shifts tops. I hire the new guys, then you’re not the low man anymore. You’ll get to come back out here… Or… Okay, I’ll let you have your pick of stations.”

“My pick?”

“Your pick. How’s that sound?” Chris tries to smile. “I just want what’s best for you.” He ignores the dumbfounded look on Stiles’ face. “I know this doesn’t sound like it, but keeping your job really is best. Please, Stiles. Think of all your dreams. Think of your dad.”

\---

Stiles parks his Jeep and slowly opens the door. He drove for a while after leaving Chris’s office after shift. The morning sun is slowly lighting the sky. He steps down, and closes the door behind him. His shoes gather some of the cold dew on the grass as he makes his way through the rows of tombstones. Stopping…

“Hi, Mom.” He bends down to wipe his fingers across the name on the stone. He kneels a few inches to the side. “Hi, Dad.” A tear threatens to slip down his cheek. “So… I need your advice.”

Stiles pours his heart out to the two people who will always listen, even in death. He doesn’t know how long he’s there, only that he starts to feel chilled to the bone. He takes a deep breath. “I know this is supposed to be my dream job, but I’m seriously thinking I’d be much happier if I just gave up. I need a sign or something! Tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

He stares at the stone until his vision starts to blur. He looks up and blinks, trying to clear his eyes.

That’s when he sees him. Stiles ducks behind the stone and slowly peeps his head above it. Isn’t there an old folktale about seeing the devil in a graveyard? He holds his breath as he watches Hale. He’s standing there. Not moving or talking, just standing… a few rows of stones in front of Stiles’ hideout. It’s only a few minutes, but it seems like hours. Finally, Hale begins to walk away.

Stiles knows he should just leave, but you know curiosity and the cat and all…

Stiles quickly sprints over to the row of stones. Turning his head in all directions as he goes. Only tripping and flailing to stay upright once. He stops and tries to find the exact stone Hale was looking at. Most likely the name of his last victim, Stiles thinks with a grimace.

When he sees the name, he immediately regrets his last thoughts.

“Peter Hale: beloved husband, father, uncle. January 24.” That’s today. Who’s the jerk now? Making assumptions about murder victims when the guy was here to pay respects to his father or uncle. He looks over the rest of the stone. “Eliza Hale: loving wife and mother. January 22.” Same year. Two days apart. That’s weird…

A ribbon catches his attention and he looks to the stone at the left. A queasiness settles in his stomach. “Cora Hale: daughter, sister. January 18.”

“Andrew Hale: January 18.”

“Jovie Hale: January 18.”

“Larissa Jones  née  Hale: January 18.”

“Robert Hale: January 18.”

“Laura Hale: January 18.”

“Alexander Hale: loving husband, father: January 18.”

“Talia Hale: devoted wife, mother: January 18.”

And the day Captain Hale ripped Stiles up one side and down the other. January 18.

Stiles takes out his phone and types in some of the names. Old newspaper articles immediately come up and he clicks on the first one. Family gathering… faulty wiring… fire… fourteen dead… most of them by the time the trucks got there… some lingering for a few days… a week… Survivors? One.

Stiles scrubs a hand over his face trying to wipe away the moisture that has gathered in his eyes. He turns back to look at his parents’ grave. “Okay.”

\---

Does a tragic life story make Captain Hale’s violent outburst okay? Absolutely not. Does it explain it? Of course. Stiles thinks back to the weird way the man was acting all day before the fire call. Staring out windows… not moving… His heart does a weird flip flop when he remembers the whimpering sound he heard while he washed the blood from his hands in the bathroom. The devil suddenly starts to seem more human.

Stiles takes a deep breath as he stands in front of Station 4. Even though he might suddenly understand the man a bit better, it doesn’t make the situation any better. He’s stuck here if he wants to keep his job. Six, nine, maybe even twelve shifts. That seems like an eternity. An eternity in Hale.

He takes one last breath before moving inside. He’s nearly knocked off his feet as the man getting off duty rushes past him to leave. He steadies himself and hitches his duffle a bit higher on his shoulder. He drops it off on his bed and heads out to hang his gear in the apparatus room.

Captain Hale freezes. Water drips down his arm where he still holds the sponge against the truck. He literally looks like a deer in the headlights.

Stiles swallows the nervous bile rising in his throat. “Sorry I’m late. I was standing in the lot like an idiot again.” He gives him a soft smile. He turns and makes sure all his gear is ready. Then, he feigns confidence and walks to Hale. He reaches out for the sponge. The Captain jerks his arm away, and Stiles instinctively takes a full step back.

“I drive, I wash, remember?” Stiles offers.

Hale simply turns his back to him. “I’ll do it.”

Stiles nods even though no one is looking. Unsure of how to proceed, he takes another breath. “Okay, I’ll do the floors and the dishes, then.” He opens the door and goes back into the main area of the station.

He works hard and quickly, yet by the time he finishes, Captain Hale is drying the last dish.

“I’ll be in the truck,” Stiles says as he walks out of the room. He’s walking on eggshells. Just waiting for Mount Hale to erupt again.

But it never comes.

The Captain quietly gets in the passenger side of the truck and shuts his door. “I’m…” he starts, but doesn’t continue.

“What?” Stiles questions as he pulls out of the drive. He glances to his right and can see Hale look down at his hands.

“Nothing.”

  
  


\---

Stiles waits for directions, but they never come. “Captain Hale, where to?”

“Go back to the station.”

“No, I want…” Stiles sighs. “I want to learn. I have to learn, right? If I’m going to be a real fireman?”

Hale glances at him. That same thoughtful look from earlier is back. He nods and sits a little straighter in his seat. “111 Piedmont Hill. Go.”

Stiles starts the lights and sirens and floors it.


	5. Five Alarm

Captain Hale locks himself in the bedroom before dinner just like always. Stiles warms up a tv dinner, not really caring to fix much. He eats, throws away the tray, washes his fork, and settles down in a chair to relax for the evening. That’s the nice thing about being a fireman. Until you have a fire call, you basically just relax and live your life. But as soon as the siren goes off, you have to immediately be ready to act.

What startles Stiles so much that he throws himself out of the chair isn’t a siren, though. It’s a scream. Stiles picks himself up off the ground and rushes to the bedroom door. Locked, of course. “Captain Hale?! You okay?”

The lack of an answer worries him, so he runs out into the apparatus room. The bathroom connects that room to the bedroom, so he rushes in and makes his way inside the bedroom. The lights are on, so he can clearly see Captain Hale sitting on the edge of his bed. He is hunched over and is covering his neck and head with his hands.

Stiles cautiously approaches him. He reaches out, “Captain Hale?”

He recoils when his hand is smacked away.

“Get away from me! What are you doing here?!” Hale stands and looms over Stiles.

“I heard a noise, and I was checking to make sure you were okay.”

“What do you care?!”

“I do care.” Stiles insists.

“No you don’t. No one does.” Hale marches to the main door and throws it open. “I’m not an idiot. I know what everyone calls this place. No one wants to be here. You’re only here because they forced you. You don’t care about me, and you never will. Get out. Get the heck away from me. Stay away from me!”

Stiles backs out of the door and is met by it being slammed in his face. Just like that, the strange sense of peacefulness experienced that morning is gone. The beast has returned. But just like that, Stiles has decided that one way or another, the Captain is going to know that someone really does care.

\---

Stiles is an idiot. This is impossible. There is absolutely no way to change this guy’s heart. He will never realize that anyone cares about him. And, Stiles really tries. He truly does. It’s just a hopeless case. Stiles has finished his first two shifts and is already halfway through his second set of three.

Hale is still a mad man. Growly threats, slamming doors. One word responses to questions that clearly need at least a sentence.

Stiles gives up.

\---

Stiles opens up the freezer and realizes he’s out of tv dinners. Crap. He’s actually going to have to cook something. He looks through the pantry and is able to pull enough together for a pot of chili. It won’t get to cook long, but it can simmer long enough to get a little flavor. He fills a gigantic pot full of ingredients and then stares at it.

Nope… He’s given up, remember? Nope, nope, nope…

He walks through the living room and knocks on the bedroom door. “Captain Hale?” He knocks again and tries the handle. It opens and he slowly sticks his head into the room. He can see the Captain sitting on his bed reading a book.

“Hey,” he responds to the silent glare. “I’m making chili for dinner. I… um… there’s plenty. And… you can… you can join me if you want to.”

The captain just stares at him.

Stiles can feel his face flush in embarrassment. “Okay, then.” He quietly closes the door and goes back into the kitchen.

After about thirty minutes, Stiles decides it has cooked for as long as it is going to have a chance to. He scoops out a bowl, grabs a spoon out of the drawer, closes it with his hip and sits down at the head of the table.

He almost chokes on his first bite when he looks up and sees Hale standing in the doorway. Swallowing, he tries to find his voice. “I’m serious. There’s plenty. Help yourself.” He nods toward the pot on the stove.

The man seems hesitant, but he moves to the cabinet, grabs a bowl and fills it with a healthy portion. He cautiously sits down.

Stiles can’t help but stare as the captain eats like a starved animal. The entire bowl is gone in minutes. The man stands, washes the bowl and spoon, and retreats to the bedroom as fast as he appeared.

Stiles finishes eating in silence; a confused smirk on his face.

  
  


\---

“I want to let you know I hate you.”

Stiles looks up from his phone with a dumbfounded expression on his face. The dishes from dinner have been washed for about an hour and a half. He didn’t expect to see the old grump for the rest of the night, but Captain Hale has appeared from his lair once again. When the brooding man doesn’t elaborate further, Stiles nods. “Uh, yeah. I think you’ve already made that pretty clear.”

“Good.”

Stiles can’t help but laugh at that response.

The captain looks down at the ground, suddenly very interested in the color of the carpet. “But…” He growls as if the words are ripping their way out of his body. “Thank you for dinner.”

Mouth very dry, Stiles swallows. “You’re welcome.”

“No one has ever asked before.” With that, he turns around, goes back into the bedroom, and slams the door so loudly that Stiles swears he sees plaster dust falling from the ceiling.

Stiles watches the particles as they settle to the ground. “I couldn’t imagine why.”

\---

It isn’t long before Stiles feels himself nodding off. He takes a moment to check over the station before heading to the bedroom. He sighs loudly when he tries to open the door and realizes Mr. Grinch has locked it again. It’s not far, only sixty feet max, but he trudges through the apparatus room, through the bathroom, and into the bedroom.

The captain is asleep but was clearly too lazy to turn the lights off. Stiles flips the light switch, crawls into his lumpy twin size bed, and begins his mental countdown. Five, four, three… two… one.

Like clockwork Hale is getting out of bed, unlocking the door, and storming into the living room. Stiles should be offended that his very presence is so horrible that the captain would rather sleep in a chair than lay twenty feet from him, but honestly nothing surprises him anymore.

He wakes with a start when the siren begins to blare throughout the building. He runs out the nearest door and lunges for his gear. Less than a minute later, the truck is halfway down the street.

Three fires separate Stiles from the fiasco that was his first run. By now, he feels much more confident. He realizes it’s not that bad after all. It’s been a lucky coincidence that all the fires have been in his district, so he’s always the first at the scene. First at the scene stays with the truck. As excited as he is to have his dream job, he’s scared to death that each next run will be the one he actually has to go into the fire.

He shakes himself from his thoughts as he parks the truck and jumps out. He hears Hale take command of the scene as he is rushing to the side of the truck. The hose is prepped and ready to go before the captain is even to his side. Water included.

It’s a small fire; someone making popcorn pushed the chicken setting instead of popcorn on the microwave and after five and a half minutes, kaboom! Only a small part of the kitchen is torched, but the worst of it is the smell.

Stiles gags as Captain Hale gets in the truck. The older man snarls at him.

“I’m sorry.” Stiles shakes his head. “It’s just the… eunhhh… the smell. You smell like the… guhhh…” Stiles can’t help the retching sounds coming from his throat. “I’m gonna barf.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Stiles rolls his window down and relishes the fresh air hitting him in his face. “You do realize that stuff can be deadly, right?”

The captain does this weird thing where he blows air through his nose at the same time he swallows. (Stiles isn’t exactly sure about that last part, but it’s as close as he has come to solving the mystery of how the sound is made.) He’s come to realize it means something along the lines of “I wish you would stop talking but I’m actually kind of interested in what you’re saying.” Or… that’s what he hopes it means at least.

“I’m serious. People have died from inhaling burnt popcorn.”

“I doubt that.”

“Look it up. I bet you I’m right.”

“Bet?”

“Sure!” Stiles smiles, finally able to breathe again. “If I’m wrong, I’ll… I would say wash the truck, sweep the floors, and basically be your personal Cinderella, but since I already do that…”

The captain rolls his eyes. “If you’re wrong, you have to shut up and leave me alone all next shift.”

“Fine,” Stiles nods. “But if I’m right, you…” he tries to ignore the death glare he is given “... you have to eat dinner with me again next shift.”

The jerk has enough gall to act like that would be a bad thing. Then, he nods. “Deal.”

“Okay,” Stiles fist pumps the air. “You do the honors, or you’ll think I’m cheating. Look it up.”

Stiles has to do everything in his power to fight back the gag when Hale shifts in his seat to grab his phone and the smell of burnt popcorn blooms through the air again.

The growl is so loud that Stiles yelps and jerks the wheel. He barely manages to keep the truck in the right lane. He’s pretty sure he hears the cell phone crack. He peeks over at Hale and can see him gritting his teeth.

“What are you making for dinner next shift?”

He smiles, “Oh… I thought maybe you would be the one to make…”

“DO. NOT. PUSH. IT.”

And Stiles doesn’t.


	6. Out in the Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a nothing but fluff chapter. Oblivious Scott is always great, but sometimes oblivious Stiles is even better.

Stiles has a clear plan for the evening. He’ll make something delicious that will force the grump to actually chew. He wants to do something to show once and for all that someone cares.

No matter what Scott says, he does not spend his day off daydreaming about the dinner. It’s not daydreaming. It’s planning. Making a shopping list does not count as daydreaming.

“Stop talking out loud.” Scott says as he pushes pause on the video game.

Stiles stops chewing on his Twizzler long enough to say, “I’m not talking out loud.”

“Making a shopping list DOES count as daydreaming.”

“Crap.” Stiles shakes his head. “I gotta stop doing that.”

“You sure do.” Scott begins playing his video game again, but soon pushes pause again. “Stiles, dude, you’re not even playing!”

“Sorry.”

Scott drops the controller on the ground and turns to face Stiles. “You like him, don’t you?”

Stiles gasps and literally chokes on the cursed red candy. Scott may or may not begin the heimlich maneuver before Stiles finally smacks him away and heaves in a deep breath. “What in the world are you talking about?! I’m not even gay!”

The pure look of confusion that crosses Scott’s face would be precious if Stiles wasn’t having an existential crisis. “What do you mean you’re not gay? I never thought you were! I meant ‘like’ as in a friendship sort of way not in a I’d like to hit that sort of way. Wait, are you gay?!”

“NO!” Stiles blushes. “Why would you even think that?”

“Uh,” Scott waves his arm around in the air, “because I mentioned the word ‘like’ and your mind immediately went to what your wedding vows were going to be apparently.”

Stiles vehemently shakes his head. “First of all, I’m not gay. Second of all, even if I was gay I wouldn’t be interested in the Hale Hole demon. Third of all… wait, am I gay?!”

“You’re asking me?!” Scott kneels beside Stiles and puts his hands on his friend’s shoulders. “Why are you asking me?! You’re the one who makes that decision!”

“Scotty, stop shaking me. I already feel sea sick without you rocking the boat.” Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know, dude. When did that happen? How did I not realize that I wasn’t sure?” Stiles reaches toward the coffee table and takes his phone. He dials a number he hasn’t even thought about in at least a year. Okay, maybe four months, but still…

“‘-lo?” A groggy voice comes over the line.

“Lyds, darling, love of my life.”

“Stiles, it’s four in the morning.”

“Crap,” Stiles blushes. “I forgot about the time difference. Look at you. Big city life. Out there changing the world.”

“What do you want,” the woman hisses.

“Am I gay?”

Silence. Dead silence.

“Lydia?”

“You slow danced with Danny at the prom.”

Stiles looks toward Scott and shakes his head. “Bros can slow dance.”

“He dipped you and you grabbed each other’s butts.”

“Um…”

“When you wanted to be prepared for our first date, HE’S the one who taught you to french kiss.”

Stiles yelps and yells into the phone, “Geez, Lydia, it’s four in the morning. Gotta go.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me.”

Stiles hangs his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Love you, Stiles”

“Love you, too.”

“Congrats on finally coming out. I’ll send you a cake.”

The line goes dead. Stiles looks up at Scott. “How did neither of us notice this?”

“Dude,” Scott just shakes his head. “Was he good?”

Stiles laughs. “Good enough.” He leans back against the couch. “His butt could have used some work though.”

They both erupt into a fit of giggles. “Dude, you’re so gay.”


	7. By any other name

Stiles takes the baking dish of chicken out of the oven and lifts the door shut with his foot. He sits it down on a dish towel and grabs the spatula so he can gently stir the fresh cut potatoes cooking on the stove.

He may or may not yelp when he sees Hale yet again standing in the doorway. He’s sneaky like a panther. Never makes a sound unless he wants to. They lock eyes for a moment and Stiles instantly panics. Isn’t eye contact a display of ferocious intent in the animal kingdom? Like, lock eyes with a gorilla, and it will rip your face off?

“I can help,” Hale growls as if even the thought of offering is killing him inside.

Shaking his head, “no, I got it,” Stiles says. “It will all be ready in a few minutes. Just making sure the potatoes are browned. And, I also need to fix the salad.”

“I can handle the salad,” the Captain says. He’s halfway to the refrigerator when the alarm sounds.

“Darn it!” Stiles turns off the stove burner and chases after his captain.

\---

Two hours later… TWO WHOLE HOURS!... Stiles trudges back through the apparatus room door and stomps into the kitchen.

“DARN IT!!!!!!!” He picks up a dish towel just so he can dramatically throw it down again.

The captain follows behind him at a safe distance. Stiles has ranted and raved the whole drive back, so no wonder the captain seems a little spooked.

“I try to do something nice, and what do I get in return? HEARTACHES!!!” Stiles yells into the sink, leaning over fully so the sound of his voice echoes through the piping.

“What’s wrong?” Hale asks.

Stiles turns around and gives him an incredulous look. His eyes bug out a little. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” the young man yells. “The chicken is cold!”

“You can warm it up.” He steps a bit closer.

“The potatoes have been sitting in the oil for too long and have almost entirely soaked it up.”

“I like oil.”

“Of course you do!” Stiles waves his arms around wildly. He turns to open up the pantry door. Looking inside, he scans what is inside. “Looks like we’ll be eating half a bag of Cheetos and a… a military rations pack of…” he holds the green package up so he can better see the worn lettering, “... shelf stable fish nuggets best by June 1982!” He does a double take and drops the bag on the ground as if the rotted fish will seep through the packaging and contaminate his hands. “EWWW! Gross!”

There’s a snort of laughter… coming from Captain Hale. The sound snaps Stiles out of his frenzy, and he looks at the man in awe. Could he be… could he be smiling?

“What… Are you laughing?” Stiles is shocked.

The captain walks forward and bends down to pick up the vintage fish. Standing upright again, he puts it back inside the pantry. “That’s mine.”

“You’re joking.”

“No,” he shrugs. I found it on eBay and thought it would be a good way to keep guys away from my food.”

“I think your general attitude has that covered.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be maimed and in severe pain, but not dead. Improvement.

With a cold shoulder, the older man turns and grabs the dish of chicken. He puts it back in the oven to warm. A few paper towels are ripped off the roll and used to soak up as much oil from the potatoes as possible.

Stiles takes a deep breath and moves to start helping. Within just a few minutes everything has been warmed. They sit on opposite sides of the table to eat.

“It’s edible, but definitely not as good as it usually is,” Stiles shrugs.

Hale scrapes the fork out of his mouth and chews with a thoughtful look. “I guess you’ll have to make it again sometime.”

Stiles looks up, surprised. He smiles. “Sure.”

They eat in silence for a while, but Stiles can tell by the constipated look on the man’s face that he really wants to say something.

“What’s up?” Stiles offers, knowing Hale won’t start talking on his own.

As always, he grits the words out. “What’s your name?”

Stiles freezes. “Um… What do you mean?” Stiles can tell he wants to throw his fork down on his plate, but he seems to be holding himself back with every ounce of willpower he has.

“I MEAN I don’t know what your name is,” Hale huffs. “Your first name.”

“Oh come on! We’ve been stationed together for weeks now. How can you not know my name?” Stiles flippantly motions with his hand.

“Everyone calls everyone by their last name here. Your first day here all I knew was the Chief said ‘Stilinski’s on his way.’ And we didn’t necessarily start off on the right foot!”

“No kidding,” Stiles mutters and stabs a piece of chicken with his fork.

“What’s mine?”

The words are so soft that they catch Stiles off guard. He immediately opens his mouth to respond, but snaps it shut when he realizes he doesn’t know. He slumps in his seat a bit as he realizes that what seems like multiple chapters of his life have passed by and he has only referred to the man as Hale, Captain Hale, Sir, demon, Grinch, and even more very rude yet very accurate terms.

“It’s Derek,” Hale growls.

Stiles nods. “My name is Stiles.” He tries to force a smile. “That’s what everyone calls me, at least. You’ll find out my real name over my dead body.”

Derek stands up so fast that the chair is nearly knocked backward. “Gladly!” He howls as he storms into the bedroom and slams the door.

Stiles sits there, stunned. “Well, that went well.”


	8. Big Shake Up

“So, then, he slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it. Of course, he locked it because he always does that. But, when I went in through the bathroom I realized he had locked that door too!”

Boyd and Erica watch their friend as he readjusts the ice pack on his neck. They had simply asked what happened to his neck, but got the entire rundown of his last shift instead.

“And this has to do with your neck because…” Erica motions for him to wrap up his story.

“Because I had to sleep in a chair all night!” Stiles starts to shake his head, but decides against it when his neck twinges. “I pounded on the door, but the jerk ignored me. He wasn’t even asleep. The lights were all on in there, but oh no… Don’t let the poor guy in no matter how much he begs.”

“You begged?” Erica questions.

“Demanded is more like it,” Stiles confesses. “I may or may not have yelled at him to grow up repeatedly.”

“So, you basically acted like him the whole night,” Boyd says matter of factly.

Stiles points a finger at him. “Don’t even go there!” He thunks his head down on the table. “Great. I’ve been around him so long that I’m starting to act like him too.”

\---

Stiles enjoys all his time off. Four straight days of sleeping in is glorious. But, work rolls around again all too soon. He has barely finished drying the truck on his first shift back when the Chief’s vehicle rolls into the driveway.

“Good morning, Chief,” Stiles greets when he walks through the door.

“Morning, Stilinski.” Argent brushes some rain off his jacket so it doesn’t seep into the material. “Where’s Hale?”

Stiles nods toward the office. Through the window, they can see Derek sitting at the desk, presumably going over the call log from the previous shift.

“Thanks,” Argent replies. “Stay out here for a bit, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Stiles can’t help but glance through the window when he hears the sound of something being thrown against the wall. Derek is standing, half lunged over the desk, and Chief Argent has his finger pointed in the firefighter’s face.

“Oh boy,” he can’t help but state aloud. He continues to watch because it’s like a car crash and he can’t look away. Thunder and lightning might be lighting up the sky outside, but the fireworks are all in the Station 4 office.

Derek grabs a book and let’s it fly at Chris’ head. The Chief ducks just in time. But, instead of becoming furious at the disrespect, he just throws up his arms and keeps talking. Derek shakes his head hard enough to give himself whiplash. At one point, the screaming rattles the window. As the door opens, Stiles quickly jogs to the other side of the truck so it won’t seem like he was watching the entire time.

Derek storms by first, eyes blazing with pure hatred. Chris slowly walks by next. He stops when he gets to Stiles.

“Stilinski, I just wanted you to know that I’m getting close to the end of the hiring process.” Chris smiles.

“Oh!” Stiles is a bit shocked. “That’s great.”

“I’m thinking it will be eight more shifts tops before I can get you to a different station.”

“Wow. That’s…” Stiles really doesn’t know what to say. “That’s quick. Thanks.”

“Welcome. I know it’s been hard for you out here. I appreciate you sticking it out. I’m proud of you. I know your dad would be too.” Argent claps his hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Thank you, sir.”

Chris nods. “Here’s hoping for a quiet day.”

\---

Derek is moody the entire day. Like, very moody. Worse than usual. After being alternatively yelled at and ignored the whole day, Stiles has finally had enough. They’re back from another run when Stiles snaps.

“What is your problem?!” Stiles yells louder than Derek currently is and the man finally shuts up.

“Excuse me?” Derek looks at him dumbfounded.

Stiles slams the hose compartment shut and throws his hands in the air. “Okay, first of all, don’t be Sigourney Weaver in ‘Holes’. Second of all, you have been even worse than usual all day long. I’m sick of it! I’ve been with you long enough to realize you can actually be nice when you want to be. So what is going on? You’re being a royal pain!”

Derek grits his teeth as he locks up the compartment he has finished restocking with supplies. “I…”

Stiles waits for him to continue, but he doesn’t. “You what?”

“I like working with you.” He looks sick after admitting it.

“And?”

“When Chris told me he’s moving you to a different station, I just lost it.” Derek sits down on the bumper. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my entire life, but I can handle working with you.” Derek sighs. “You’re just right. You let me be my naturally grumpy self when I need to be, but you also have enough attitude of your own to stand up for yourself.”

“I do not have an attitude!” Stiles rolls his eyes.

He gives him a ‘yeah right’ stare. “Forget I said anything.” Derek stands and walks through the bathroom to the bedroom.

Stiles follows. He stands awkwardly as Derek sits down on his full size bed. He doesn’t really know what to say. This is one of the longest conversations they’ve ever had, but he’s not sure where it’s going. He decides to change the topic.

“Why do you never sleep in the same room as me?”

Derek looks up at him. “What?”

“I’m curious,” Stiles shrugs. “You always sleep in here until I come in. Then, you storm off to the other room. Is sleeping in the same room with me that bad?”

Hale looks like he’s ready to puke. “It’s…”

“Just talk to me,” Stiles asks. “Please.”

“I can’t sleep if the lights are out,” he rushes out.

Stiles is shocked. “Oh.”

“Stuff has happened in my life.” He points to the lights, seemingly lost for words. “Nightmares.”

Stiles nods and sits down on his own bed across the room from the captain. “The night you screamed…”

“Yeah…”

“So, why didn’t you just say so?”

Derek shrugs, suddenly seeming much smaller than before. “A monster who’s scared of the dark? What would that do to my reputation?”

Stiles smiles. “You come in here after dinner to sleep, so you’ll be able to stay awake in there after I go to bed.” He shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face. “Ok, that’s going to change. I have no problem sleeping with the lights on.”

Derek gives him an incredulous glare. “Really?”

“Scout’s honor.” Stiles holds up his hand. “I could honestly sleep anywhere, in any condition, in any position. Absolutely not a problem. Maybe if you get to sleep longer, you’ll be less of a jerk.”

Derek growls, but it’s not as harsh as before.

\---

They sleep in the same room that night. Lights on. Stiles realizes the demon of Hale Hole snores. It may or may not warm his heart.


	9. Out of the Box

The next shift is different. Derek says “hi” to him when he walks in the station. Stiles hangs his gear and gets ready for the day. Once finished, he goes to the truck to begin washing it. He gets the soap bucket out of the work room and notices there are two sponges in it. At the other end of the apparatus room, he hears the water turning on. Pushing the bucket to the truck, he sees Derek by the truck already working to hose it off. They wash the truck together for once.

While Stiles vacuums the carpeted rooms, Derek mops the tile. It’s nice. Working together saves a lot of time.

Stiles finishes first and goes into the kitchen to start pulling out the dishes from the cabinets. This is probably his least favorite chore. Most of the time Derek does it, but he has done it several times by now. It has always seemed pointless to wash clean dishes at the beginning of every day. But, by now, he has learned that Hale has a reason behind everything, so this is probably no different. Going on make believe fire runs gets you used to the process for when you have to go on a real one. Practice makes perfect and all that jazz. Prepping the truck makes sure you’re always ready for a run.

When Derek comes over to start rinsing and drying, Stiles brings it up. “Why do we always have to wash the dishes each morning?”

A small smile brings some light to Derek’s face. “The other guys are slobs. Who wants to eat off of dishes they only rinse off and put back in the cabinet?”

“Gross,” Stiles laughs. “Good point. Thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always.”

Stiles turns to look at him, but he refuses to return the look. Stiles stares at him for a moment. Could it be that the Grinch’s icy heart is slowly melting?

\---

Stiles cooks his chicken dinner again. It goes over much better this time if he does say so himself. It’s still warm when they sit down to eat. They eat in companionable silence, and when they finish and do start talking no one ends up storming out of the room. It’s nice. A full hour passes with them just talking. Mostly firehouse gossip that Derek never gets to hear since he never hangs around any of the other guys, but there’s some talk of their pasts, too. Not much, but a few details here and there.

Derek has sunken into silence once again. Stiles stretches his arms and stands. He picks up their dishes, scrapes off any leftovers into the trash and dumps them in the sink. The water begins to run so it will get hot. He plugs the drain and pours a healthy dollop of soap into the sink. As he reaches for the sponge, he jumps when he feels a gentle hand slide across his shoulders.

He turns his eyes beside him to see Hale who has silently moved to the sink. He drops his hand as if Stiles shoulder is made of hot coals and has burned him.

“I’ll wash them. You made it.”

Stiles forces a smile. “You wash and I dry this time?”

Derek nods and they switch spots. Stiles can’t help but keep glancing over at the man. He’s such a mystery, and Stiles is determined to figure him out.

\---

The next two shifts are mostly the same. Chores, route check, breakfast, relax, one or two runs, eating dinner together, sleeping with the lights on, day off, repeat.

The four day kelly is a hard time for Stiles. He spends the first day dreading the next. Spends the next at the cemetery in honor of his dad’s birthday. One day to recuperate from the day before. And, his last day, is spent listening to Scott ramble on and on about finally having the confidence to ask the girl of his dreams out. Turns out she said yes, and good thing too because if not the poor guy probably would have died from the heartbreak. After a few hours of rambling, Stiles finally starts tuning him out. He hears bits and pieces, but there’s only so much you can stand hearing about your friend’s horniness for the Chief’s daughter.

\---

He and Derek chat off and on through their chores the next day. Turns out neither of them had a very good kelly. Not that anything extremely bad happened, it was just emotional for Stiles, and Derek seems to never actually do ANYTHING literally ever, so it was just pretty much blah on both sides.

Stiles scrambles eggs as he complains about Scott.

Derek sits at the table reading the newspaper. “So, is this Scott guy a good guy? As much as you complain about him…”

“Oh, no! He’s great!” Stiles dumps the eggs onto a plate and slides them across the table to Derek. He turns and starts cracking some more into the pan for himself. “I swear, he really is. It’s just that he gets on my nerves when he goes on and on and on about how wonderful this girl is. I mean…” Stiles waves the spatula in the air as he speaks with his hands. “There’s only so much I need to know about the Chief’s daughter and how perfect her boobs are.” Stiles stops and turns around when he hears the sound of Derek choking. “You okay?”

Derek takes a drink of water and points to the plate of eggs.

“Did I put too much pepper in them?”

“No,” Derek gasps, “they’re fine.”

“I did, didn’t I? I get a little liberal with the spices when I’m not paying attention. Sorry.” Stiles takes the plate back. “I’ll eat these, and you can have the new batch.”

Derek clears his throat, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Stiles shrugs. He finishes the eggs and puts them on the plate. He gives them to Derek and then sits down. “So, anyway, now he’s totally freaking out because she says her older brother is overprotective, and she wants him to approve if things get serious.”

Derek grunts to show he’s listening even though he continues to eat his eggs.

“I didn’t realize she had a brother. He’s like a step brother or something, but still. I feel like I should have known this.” He shakes his head. “My dad was great friends with Chief Argent for years.”

“You’re not as observant as you seem to believe.”

“Rude.” Stiles finally quiets down when he starts eating.

Just as both of them finish, there’s a knock on the door. Stiles grabs the plates to wash as Derek goes to the door.

A FedEx driver greets him and hands him a box.

Derek goes back in the kitchen and sets the box on the table. “This is for you.”

Hands still in the soapy water, Stiles turns to look. “Really? Who would send me a package at the station?”

Derek shrugs. “Want me to open it?” Derek asks while shaking his hands acknowledging Stiles’ hands are wet.

“Sure,” Stiles turns back to the dishes. “I have no clue what it is.”

“It was overnighted from a bakery in New York,” Derek says as he slices the packaging and pulls out the white box inside.

Stiles pauses as he reaches for the egg pan. He shakes his head. “New York? I don’t even know anyone in…” His eyes suddenly open wide. Lydia. Cake. “Wait!”

It’s too late. Derek reads aloud the writing piped in rainbow icing. “Congrats for finally having the balls to admit you want a guy to hold them!”

Stiles whirls around, grabs the cake, and spastically swings it through the air. As if in slow motion both men watch the cake sail through the air and hit into the wall with a wet smack. Icing and cake crumbles and squelches to the floor in a massive, gooey clump.

Derek turns his eyes on Stiles. Stiles looks at Derek. Derek looks at the cake. Stiles looks at the cake. The older man turns once more and stares at Stiles. Stiles can feel his face heating in a burning blush. Derek points at the mess still sliding down the wall. Stiles gulps.

“You owe me cake.”

Stiles releases the breath he was holding. “Okay.”


	10. Cops and Donuts

Derek closes the door after he walks into the bedroom. He tries not to listen to the conversation, but it’s hard not to with the way Stiles is whisper-shouting in the kitchen.

“Lydiaaaaaaa. How could you?!” Stiles waves his hands around wildly in the air. “No! No it was not a brilliant idea! You have turned this into the most embarrassing day of my life!” Stiles grabs a handful of his hair and yanks on it. “I didn’t have to read it because my partner was already reading it OUT LOUD!” He shrieks, “No, I don’t move quickly! My partner! My fire department partner as in the man that I am stationed with.”

Stiles holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he bends down and starts scraping cake from the floor. “Yes, he’s cute. He’s great. But even if I did want to… No Lydia, the cake did not… No… Lydia… I’m not… No.” Stiles sighs. “Yes. Okay. Bye.”

\---

Stiles and Derek stand awkwardly in the kitchen. Derek has flipped through the morning newspaper multiple times without reading a thing. Leaning against the counter, Stiles has a cup of coffee in his hand that he has repeatedly brought to his lips only to put it back down without drinking any of it at all.

Stiles takes a deep breath. “So… About that cake I owe you…”

Derek looks up at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to go get it once the shift ends?” Stiles eyes him almost hopeful.

Derek nods. “Sure.” He drops the newspaper on the table.

Stiles smiles momentarily.

“But…”

His smile drops.

“But… we should get breakfast first. I don’t want cake first thing in the morning.”

Stiles’ smile returns even bigger than before. He shakes his head enthusiastically. “Sounds good.” He finally takes a sip of his coffee and winces when he realizes it is cold. He dumps it down the drain and quickly washes the mug.

Shift change starts at 7:00. The new driver is the first to arrive. When Derek sees him pull in the lot, he motions his head to Stiles. “Morales is here. We can take my car. Why don’t you go ahead out? It’s unlocked.”

Stiles nods. “Okay. I need to take the trash to the dumpster out back. I’ll do that and then head around to your car.”

Stiles grabs the trash and hauls it out the apparatus room and outside to the old dumpster. As he lifts it up, it snags on a piece of metal. The bottom of the bag rips open just enough that some of the raw steak scraps from dinner last night fall out and drip down the side of the dumpster. “Gross” Stiles certainly isn’t going to pick up raw meat with his hands. He looks around and wanders off into the grass to pick up a stick. He walks back over to the mess and stabs the meat. He flips it up into the open dumpster and closes the lid. He looks at the bloody mess that is splattered across the asphalt. He shrugs. “Off duty. Not my problem.”

He walks over to Derek’s gorgeous black Camaro. Admiring it for just a moment, he gently opens the door and eases himself inside.

Morales is inside the station by now. He’s eyeing Derek cautiously. People staring always makes him on edge. He tries to give the young driver a smile, but it comes out overly toothy and the kid slowly backs away toward the apparatus room. Derek is impatient to get going, but he has to wait for his replacement to get there.

Outside, Gaines pulls into the lot and parks beside the Camaro. Stiles likes Gaines. He’s always been nice to him. Stiles smiles and waves, but Gaines walks on by. It must be the dark windows, because Gaines would have waved if he had seen him. Stiles shrugs and waits for Derek to finally make it outside.

Gaines opens the front door and is met by Derek barreling out at full speed. “In a rush?!” he shouts.

“Gotta do something!” Derek growls in response and jogs to his Camaro.

Gaines rolls his eyes and starts his day.

Derek gets in the car and starts it. The clock says 7:15. “Sorry you had to wait so long.”

Stiles shrugs again. “It’s fine. Gaines is almost always late. I almost expected it.”

“So,” Derek hesitantly asks, “any place you want to go?”

“Not really.” Stiles admits. “You’re the one who suggested breakfast, so maybe you choose where to eat. I’ll choose where to get cake.”

“Sure.” Derek pulls out of the station parking lot and heads toward downtown. It’s a small cafe. A little more upscale than what Stiles is used to. They walk inside and Derek motions for a table for two.

A little old lady in a pink apron approaches them. “Is a booth okay?”

Derek looks at Stiles who nods. “A booth is fine.”

Once they get settled in, Derek passes a menu across the booth to Stiles. “Have you ever been here before?”

“No, but it seems really nice.” Stiles opens the menu. “Anything you would recommend?”

“I’m getting the pecan waffles special. It comes with sausage, eggs, and hashbrowns. It’s probably my favorite thing on the menu.”

Stiles smiles. “It sounds good.” He is quiet as he looks at the menu. “MMMMmmmmmm. They have French Toasted Cinnamon Rolls?! Have you ever had them?”

“No,” Derek admits. “I’m not much of a straight sugar for breakfast person.”

“Of course you’re not,” Stiles rolls his eyes.

The cute little old lady is back. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Orange juice,” Derek states.

“I’ll have coffee.”

She starts to walk away once she jots down the order.

“Oh, wait…” Stiles speaks again. “I just saw the caramel macchiato espresso bomb. I want that.”

“I’ll change it,” the sweet woman states.

“No,” Stiles stops her, “I’ll have the coffee too.”

Derek shakes his head. “You’re going to overdose on caffeine.”

“Nah… I slowly built up my tolerance through college.”

When the woman comes back with their drinks, Stiles immediately grabs his drink and gulps some down. “This is so good!”

“Thank you.” The woman smiles. “Now, can I take your order?” She looks sweetly at Stiles.

“I’m not sure yet. Take Derek’s first.”

“I’ll have the pecan waffles special. Sausage patties, not links. Eggs scrambled. Hashbrowns light, not too done.”

“Picky,” Stiles snorts. “Um, I’ll have the French Toasted Cinnamon Rolls.”

“Two or four?”

“Um… how big are they?”

“Just a nice cinnamon roll size. Not too big, but substantial,” the woman says.

“Go ahead and give me four.” Stiles points to the sides section of the menu. “Does the ‘save a side’ option apply to the rolls?”

“Sure does. You save a dollar for every side you choose.” The woman, her name tag says Ann, readies her pen for the order.

“I’ll have the scrambled eggs, hashbrowns - crunchy, please. Oooh, the cinnamon apples sound great. Then, I’ll have the sausage patties. Go ahead and give me bacon too.” He looks up and sees Ann and Derek both staring at him. “That’s all,” he smiles.

Ann leaves, but Derek is still staring at him. “What?” he blushes.

Derek shakes his head. “You’re planning on eating all that AND having cake afterward?”

“Definitely. Don’t judge me.”

Derek holds up his hands in surrender.

When the delicious breakfast foods arrive, Stiles reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“No,” Derek says. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who take pictures of their food.”

Stiles snorts, “When it looks like this, I am!” He frowns as he pats his hands down his body. “Darn it. I don’t have my phone.” He smacks himself in the forehead. “It must have fallen out of my pocket when I fetched that stick.”

“I’m not even going to ask.”

Stiles laughs. “Will you please take a picture of my food, so I can just eat it already?”

Derek groans and pulls out his phone to snap a picture. He may or may not make sure he gets Stiles smiling in the background, too.

“Thanks!” Stiles picks up his fork and dives in. He moans lewdly with each bite. “This is amazing.”

“Glad you like it.”

Once Stiles has tried a bite of all his food, he glances over at Derek.

Of course Derek sees him. “What?” he huffs.

“Can I try your waffle? Just a bite.”

Derek groans but pushes his plate toward Stiles so he can steal a bite.

“Oh yum,” Stiles closes his eyes to savor the flavor. “Those are delicious.”

“I know.”

Stiles reaches back for another bite only to have his hand smacked away. “Ouch!”

“Eat your own.”

  
  


They take their time eating and enjoying each other’s company. At the end of their meal, they argue over the check which is ridiculous because this isn’t even a date. Derek insists on paying for both meals. Stiles insists on paying for everything they get at the bakery.

Stiles leaves a substantial tip for Ann, and then they exit the building.

“Where to?” Derek asks.

“Actually,” Stiles says. “The bakery I was thinking of is only a few blocks from here. We could walk if you want to.”

“I think you need to.”

“Hey!” Stiles smacks him in the shoulder.

They slowly walk down the sidewalk toward the bakery.

It’s a small shop, nothing much to look at. Basically just a hole in the wall type place. Turns out, Derek has never been there.

“How did you find this place?”

They’re waiting in line, so Stiles turns so he can face him. “My dad used to bring me here all the time after my mom died. It was one of the only places that made me feel calm. I missed my mom so much. And I missed all the desserts she used to bake. My dad was a horrible baker, so he found this place for me. I still come here when I just need to get out of my head.”

Derek just nods. They slowly move up in the line. “So, what do you recommend?”

Stiles smiles and points to the lighted glass counter. “Any of the cakes are great, but I love the carrot cake. The red velvet peanut butter is amazing, too.” Stiles bends over and directs Derek to look at the corner of the case. “I know I owe you cake, but those donuts are the best in town.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, and I should know. My dad was a cop.”

“Okay,” Derek says. “If I had to choose one donut, which should I try?”

“You can’t just try one.” They finally step up so they’re next in line. “I’ll have the carrot cake. Der, what do you want?”

Derek freezes beside him. It takes him a moment to answer. “I’ll try the red velvet peanut butter.”

“Nice.” Stiles smiles. He turns his attention to the woman behind the counter. “And, we’ll have one of the donut sampler boxes.”

“Sure thing,” she smiles. “You get four yeast, four cake, and four cronuts.”

“Oh, I know!” Stiles immediately rattles off his order. “Give us two cinnamon rounds and two glazed for the yeast. One pumpkin cake, one blueberry cake, one lemon cake, and one chocolate cake. Then, for the cronuts, give us a pecan pie, a s’more, a turtle, and an apple butter.”

“I’ll have those right up for you. Step over to the register for me.”

“You can’t possibly eat all of those,” Derek whispers in his ear.

“I actually could, but I’m not… We are.”

Stiles makes Derek carry the cake and donut boxes. He holds the door open and then says, “Follow me!”

Derek follows Stiles as they squeeze through the alleyway beside the bakery. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

They reach a set of stairs at the back of one of the downtown businesses and begin to climb. Once they reach the top, Stiles spreads his arms wide so Derek can see. There are several picnic tables set up across the roof of the building. “It’s my dad’s spot.” He grabs the boxes and sets them down on a table.

Derek sits down and watches as Stiles cuts the cake donuts and cronuts in half.

“We’re not leaving until we’ve tasted them all.”

And, they don’t.

As they each finish the last of their dessert, they’re laughing hysterically clearly on sugar highs. “No, I’m serious,” Stiles says as he sucks in a breath. “That actually happened to me back in high school.” He watches as Derek wipes tears from his eyes. Stiles smiles and looks away. He holds a hand on his stomach. It’s hurting from a mixture of way too much food and laughing too hard. He looks at his watch. “Dude, it’s almost one o’clock.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek scowls. He stretches and stands. “Let’s go get your car.” He picks up the now empty boxes so he can take them to a trash can.

Stiles stands and walks behind Derek down the stairs. He almost crashes into him at the bottom when Derek suddenly stops.

“Thanks for dessert.”

They’re so close to each other. Stiles gets lost in the moment as he looks into the man’s eyes. He shakes his head to help him focus. “You’re welcome. Thanks… Thanks for breakfast.”

And then, Derek is walking away. Stiles follows him back to the car.

The ride back to the station is quiet, but pleasant. Too bad that pleasant feeling doesn’t last once they turn onto the street leading to Station 4.

“What’s going on?” Stiles leans forward so he can see out of the window better. There are police lights flashing all over the parking lot. So many people are walking around. The Chief is there and… 

“Is that crime scene tape surrounding the dumpster?” Derek asks as he starts to pull into the back of the lot. He parks his car and the Sheriff’s department immediately turns a line of weapons toward them.

“Woah, what the heck!” Stiles screeches.

“Stay here,” Derek warns.

“No way.” Stiles shakes his head. “My dad was Sheriff for twelve years. These guys don’t scare me.” Stiles opens his door and gets out of the car.

“STILES?!?!” A voice screams over the commotion.

“Erica?” Stiles holds his arms out and she immediately runs into him.

“Stiles, we thought you were dead!”

Derek gets out of the car only to be shouted at to freeze and raise his hands in the air. Stiles squirms out of Erica’s grasp and moves himself in front of Derek.

“What on earth is going on?!” Stiles looks around at all of the officers. He finds Parrish in the crowd remembering he took over as Sheriff after his dad died. “Parrish, tell them to put their guns down!”

He looks over and sees Erica being held by Boyd as she cries in relief. “Guys! Why did you think I was dead?!” Stiles looks around at everyone else. Whittemore and his group of goons are standing near the station taking pictures of all the ruckus. The Chief is slowly making his way through the crowd.

“Morales and Gaines called the Chief when they realized your Jeep was still here but you were nowhere to be seen. They were in a panic because when they looked through the station for you they found blood splatter all over the kitchen wall, a pool of blood by the dumpster, and your phone laying beside it. Everyone came out to help search. We assumed he’d finally killed you and had either hid you in the dumpster or taken you off somewhere to bury the body!”

Stiles covers his face with his hands absolutely appalled at this situation. “First of all, that was red icing on the wall, and I thought I had cleaned it all. Second of all… Wait, there is no second of all. WHAT THE HECK GUYS!!!!!!!!”

“Stiles,” the Chief says.

“You let them go this far with this crazy idea?”

Chris is red in the face. “We had to check into things. You have to admit, it looked suspicious.” He looks from Stiles to Derek. Derek, who is standing there absolutely furious. “Derek.”

“Don’t.” He points his finger at him. “Just, don’t.” He turns and gets back in his car.

“Derek,” Stiles calls. He tries to stop him, but he has already whipped the car around and has floored it out of there. “Great.” Stiles walks over and picks his phone up from the ground where some idiot crime scene photographer is still documenting it for evidence. “Freaking great, you guys. Bravo!” He shoves past the group and climbs inside his Jeep. He doesn’t look back as he drives away.


	11. Emotions on Fire

Stiles drives off and searches for Derek, but he can’t find him. He doesn’t know where the guy lives and doesn’t have his phone number. So, it’s a pretty lousy search. He finally goes home. Boyd and Erica are waiting for him when he gets there, but he refuses to speak to them. They finally leave with muttered apologies.

He spends the rest of his evening thinking about what he’s going to say to Derek tomorrow. He has no idea how he’s going to continue to react to the situation. Stiles didn’t do anything wrong, but he knows by now that when Derek gets mad he gets mad at the whole world. He has to come up with some sort of plan.

Stiles is lying on his bed when his phone rings. “Hello?” he answers and immediately rolls his eyes. He doesn’t have enough mental capacity to deal with Scott’s relationship issues right now.

“... so help me!” Scott continues.

Stiles realizes he already hasn’t been listening to what his friend is saying. “Scotty, dude, I can’t help you right now. I’m suffering from emotional whiplash. Most embarrassing day ever leads to best day ever. But, then best day ever gets ruined and turns into worst day ever.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” Scott offers. “But, I’m freaking out here.”

Stiles scrubs a hand down his face and sighs.

“She wanted me to meet her brother tonight but just texted to cancel. She says it’s some big family emergency, but I think she’s just backing out.”

Stiles thinks back to the look of pure hatred on Derek’s face when the chief tried to talk to him. “It may be a family emergency. If looks could kill the Chief might be dead.”

“Her dad might be dead?!” Scott screams into the phone. “Oh wow, Stiles, what do I do?! I’ve never had to deal…”

Stiles must zone out again because the next thing he hears is Scott repeatedly saying his name. “Scott, I’m sorry, man. But, I just can’t deal with this right now. I’m sorry to be such a crap friend, but I just can’t. I’m sure everything is fine. She’s not breaking up with you. But, I gotta go.” He hangs up without waiting for a reply.

He needs to talk to Derek.

\---

Stiles is a ball of nervous energy as he waits for Derek to arrive at the station the next day. He can’t keep himself still as he waits and watches the clock. Finally at 7:08 the door opens. He rushes to it only to stop dead in his tracks when he realizes who it is.

“Whittemore, what are you doing here?!” Stiles shouts in surprise.

The man dumps his gear on the ground. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m the newest hire who is actually qualified enough to be an officer out here. So, here I am.”

“But… Where’s Derek?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Whittemore plops himself down into one of the recliners and puts his feet up.

Stiles glares at him before walking into the kitchen to think. The more he thinks of the situation, the more riled up he gets. When the tones go off for radio check at 7:30, he marches into the office pushing Whittemore out of the way and grabs the mic. “Where the freak is Derek?!” he screams into the keyed mic.

“Stilinski,” the Chief replies. “This is not the way to start the radio check.”

“Yeah? I don’t give a crap! Where’s my partner?!”

Chief Argent sighs, “He called in sick.”

“You know he’s not sick!”

“We’re not having this conversation right now. Whittemore, get the mic.”

Whittemore happily rips the mic out of Stiles’ hand. “Station 4 is clear, sir.”

Stiles is absolutely furious. He knows it’s stupid, but he is channeling all his worry and anxiety into anger. It doesn’t help any that he’s stuck with the pond scum that is Jackson Whittemore. The guy won’t listen to anything. He refuses to clean the truck, sweep the floor, or do the dishes. I mean, come on, that’s just basic courtesy! It’s Stiles’ habit by now. And as anxious as Stiles is, he needs his routine. When Whittemore absolutely refuses, Stiles flips out.

\---

“Headquarters, Chief Argent,” the man answers the phone.

“Uh, Chief?” Whittemore lowly speaks into the phone.

“Yes, Whittemore?”

“I think you need to get out here.”

“What’s going on?” Argent stands up from his desk.

“He’s insane.”

“What?”

Jackson continues. “He’s insane! He’s screaming and yelling and going crazy. He just slammed the bedroom door shut and has himself locked inside. He even locked the bathroom door.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad. This is Stilinski we’re talking about.”

“I think he’s possessed,” Whittemore whispers. “The demon haunting this place went out of Hale and into him.”

The Chief pinches the bridge of his nose. “Good grief. I’ll be right there.”

When he steps out of his truck, he can already hear the screaming. He takes a deep breath and enters the building. He goes to the apparatus room where he can hear Jackson pounding on the bathroom door.

“Open the door you butthole! I’m about ready to fill my pants!”

“Use a bucket!!!!!” Stiles screams from inside.

“You little piece of…”

“Stilinski!” The Chief intervenes. “You unlock this door right this minute!”

The yelling stops. The door is slowly unlocked. The Chief moves inside. He looks around, but Stiles has already locked the door to the bedroom from this side too. He turns around to look at Whittemore and motions to the stalls. “Have at it.”

He moves around to the other bedroom entrance and knocks on the door. “Stilinski, open this door.”

“No.”

The Chief realizes that the boy’s voice is soft, like all the fight has gone out of him. “Stiles, come on. We need to talk.”

The door slowly swings open. There are tears in Stiles’ eyes as the Chief enters.

“Why’d you have to call in the SWAT team? Huh? You ruined everything.”

“Stiles, kid, there was nothing else I could do. From my point of view, there were some things that looked suspicious.”

Stiles huffs an empty laugh. “Like what? The icing on the wall? Yeah, that immediately screams murder!”

“No. I mean the fact that your Jeep was still in the lot at noon on your day off. Your phone lying by the dumpster, and the fact that no one had seen you leave the station.”

“So, you put two and two together and assume that Derek must have murdered me?! What do you guys have against him?!” Stiles sits down on the side of his bed.

“I don’t have anything against him, Stiles.” The Chief takes a seat beside him. “I care for him more than you might imagine. But, I care about you, too. We had no idea what had happened to you and had no way of contacting you. We were worried about YOU.”

“So, instead of calling my partner and asking him some simple questions, you set up a firing squad and tried to arrest him for murder?”

“I called Derek. Multiple times actually.” Chris puts his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “We don’t have the best relationship. He didn’t answer. And, when he didn’t, that just confirmed everyone else’s suspicions.”

“I just want to see him and make sure he’s okay. He was so upset when he left here yesterday.” Stiles slouches.

“You can.” Chris writes down an address and hands it to Stiles. “You’ve scared Whittemore enough for one day. Take the rest of the shift as a mental health day. You need it.”

Stiles stands up.

“Go see if you can talk to him.”

Stiles nods and leaves the station.

\---

He pulls up at the house with the address Chris gave him. He hurries up to the front door and knocks. There’s no answer. He walks around the porch and can see the Camaro in the back of the driveway. He goes back to the front door and knocks again.

“Derek, I know you’re in there.” He knocks again. “Will you open the door and please talk to me?”

Stiles tries to look in the front window, but the curtains are pulled. He looks up and at the top of the door he can see three small window panes. He jumps so he can try to see inside. Finally, he steps up on one side of the brick window ledge and hoists himself up so he is clinging to the door. He can just barely see inside through the glass in the door.

“HA! I can see you!”

Derek is sitting on the couch in the living room. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees and hangs his head.

“So, you won’t let me in. That’s fine. You can still hear what I’m saying.” Stiles adjusts himself as much as he can so he can continue to hold on. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re mad at everyone else, so you’re not talking to me either. Please, Derek. I need you at the station. It’s not the same without you.”

Stiles gasps as he almost slips off the ledge.

Derek looks up and can see Stiles’ face pressed up against the glass. How he’s clinging to the top of the door, he’ll never know. “I had fun yesterday. It was a good day. The first good day I’ve had in a long time, Stiles.”

“See?” Stiles calls. “That’s good. I had fun too.” One minute Stiles is hanging on the door and the next the door has opened and he’s plummeting to the ground. He groans as he looks up at the man in front of him.

“It’s not good, Stiles. Because every time I have a good day, the universe goes and does something to screw me over yet again. I can’t do it anymore. I’m done trying.”

“No,” Stiles starts but is cut off.

“You should be done trying too. I’m never going to change, so what’s the point?”

“But, Derek…”

“I’ll be at work next shift. But, just leave me alone, okay? Please.” He closes the door and Stiles lets his head thunk back on the porch. He sighs and just lays there for a minute.

\---

The next shift is weird. Derek mopes. Stiles mopes. They dance around each other not quite sure of what to say or do. It’s depressing, really.

It’s six o’clock when the alarm goes off. They rush to the truck and jump in as they receive the information. 402 Elm Street. Stiles knows exactly where to go. Three streets not four. He turns on Maple at 3rd and is able to pull up right beside the address. He gives Derek a small smile as the man jumps out of the truck.

Derek takes command of the scene, and Stiles preps the hose. The rest of the department arrives shortly after.

This fire is absolutely blazing. Stiles gives a sigh of relief that he is able to stay with the truck. By now in his career, he has been inside some small fires, but nothing like this. The heat coming off the house is extreme. Listening to the guys inside, he knows the structure won’t last much longer. The family was inside at the time the fire started, but two of the guys working inside have found them and were able to get them out through a back window.

Derek calls it a complete loss. He directs the other men to continue hosing down the neighboring buildings to protect them and to tackle some particularly hot spots. He moves beside Stiles to give him some direction about a new hose line.

“Family of four saved because I learned my streets. Thanks, Hale.”

Derek just nods. Both men turn when they hear screaming. It’s the mother. She is in an absolute panic and some of the police officers on scene are pulling her away from the house. Stiles looks at them. The mother. The father holding a five to six year old child. One. Two. Three.

“Where’s the other kid?” Stiles says half to himself.

“What?”

“You said this was a family of four. Were you being serious?!”

“Yes,” Derek answers.

“There’s only three. Look.” Stiles grabs his helmet. “There’s only three.”

Before Derek even has a chance to stop him, Stiles has started running. “STILES!”

Stiles shoves past some workers in front of the house, opens the door, and rushes inside.

  
  


\---

Derek desperately keys the radio. “Stiles!” He shakes his head. “Stiles, do you copy?”

Chief Argent commands the guys to start hitting the house hard with water again. He places a reassuring hand on Derek’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine. I’m sending Franco in to help him.”

Derek slides his arm away from Chris. “Stiles, do you copy?”


	12. Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter just because I hate cliffhangers.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he holds an oxygen mask to his face. He’s currently sitting in the back of an ambulance watching Derek glare at him.

“Lahey,” Stiles says to an EMT that’s working with him. “I’m fine. I swear. I had my oxygen tank on the whole time. I didn’t inhale anything.”

The man gives him an exasperated look. “A beam literally fell on you.”

Stiles shrugs. “It hit my helmet, not my head.” He pulls the mask away. “I’m fine. Can I go?”

EMT Lahey turns and looks at Derek. “Captain Hale, I’m releasing him because he seems fine. But, if you see anything wrong with him at all, call us.”

Derek nods.

Stiles hops out of the ambulance and grabs the rest of his gear. He starts walking toward the Chief, but Derek stops him.

“Not a chance.” He stands in front of him. “The Chief already said for us to both go back to the station. They’ve got the fire knocked down now. They don’t need us.”

“I just want to know how the girl is.”

Derek takes Stiles’ shoulder and forces him to turn toward the truck. “We don’t know yet. They took her to the hospital. We’ll know something soon.”

Stiles walks to the driver’s side of the truck but stops.

“You’re shaking.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“Do I need to get the paramedics?”

“No,” Stiles assures him. “I’m just a little worked up from everything. It’s just now sinking in… what I did…”

“Let me drive,” Derek insists. “Hop in the other side.”

“This is weird,” Stiles says halfway through the ride to the station.  
“What is?” Derek responds.

“Riding instead of driving.”

  
  


Stiles gets out of the truck and guides Derek in parking the truck in the apparatus room. The phone begins to ring right as soon as they enter the main living area. He answers it. “Hello. Yes, sir. Okay. Thanks.”

Derek watches as Stiles quietly hangs up the phone and walks into the dark bedroom. He follows him. “Stiles?”

Stiles is trembling. He looks up at Derek and shakily speaks. “She’s gonna be okay.”

Derek sighs. “That’s great.” He reaches out to put a hand on Stiles’ shoulder to steady him. “You did good.”

At that, Stiles caves. He starts to openly cry, and it seems as if his legs can’t support him anymore.

“Here,” Derek grabs him. “I’ve got you.” He walks him over to the captain’s bed since it is closer and also larger. He sits them both down and Stiles sinks onto the bed. They lie there together; Stiles crying and Derek holding. Derek gently rubs Stiles’ back until he stops shaking. Slowly, they both drift to sleep.

\---

Stiles doesn’t know how long he is asleep, but he slowly stirs and realizes he is in Derek’s arms. He hates to leave the warmth and security, but he needs to get cleaned up. He needs to get into his own bed. He quietly tries to sit up, but as intertwined as they are, of course Derek wakes up.

“Where are you going?”

Eyes peer up at him. “I need to get in my own bed.”

“You can stay here.”

Stiles smirks. “But, the lights are off.”

Derek shrugs. “That’s okay.”

Stiles easily lies back down. A faint blush paints his face when Derek immediately wraps his arms around him again.

“Are you feeling better?” Derek whispers as they lie face to face.

“Yes.” Stiles nods. “I was just a little overwhelmed.”

“I was scared I was going to lose you,” Derek admits.

“I’m sorry.”

“My… my family died in a fire.”

“I know,” Stiles gently rubs his thumb back and forth where his hand rests on Derek’s shoulder.

“I don’t think I could stand losing you too.”

Stiles lightly chuckles. “Says the man who literally growled at me continuously when he first met me.”

“I have issues.”

“Clearly.”

“My life has been a wreck since the fire. You’re the first good thing that has happened to me in a very long time.”

Stiles responds by closing the distance between them. The kiss is soft and chaste. He quickly pulls away. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Whatever you were thinking, I was thinking the same thing.” Derek pulls Stiles into a second kiss. This time it is neither soft nor chaste.

They make out until exhaustion takes over and they drift off to sleep again.


	13. Through the eyes of a child

“What in the world is going on here?!” The Chief shouts waking up the duo. Stiles shrieks in a very manly way as he flails off the bed.

Derek takes a moment to recover after Stiles’ wayward foot nails him square in the crotch.

“Chief!” Stiles pops up from the other side of the bed. “Not what it looks like!”

“So, two of my firefighters weren’t spooning in the captain’s bed while covered in hickeys?”

Stiles’ eyes go wide, and he immediately reaches up to cover his neck. Derek manages to stand up from the bed.

“It might be what it looks like, but it’s not as incriminating as it seems.” Stiles tries to smile.

“Elaborate,” Chief Argent motions for him to continue.

“I mean it’s a new development. It’s not like we’ve been humping for weeks.”

“Just the past few hours, apparently,” Chris says.

“Exactly!” Stiles gives him a thumbs up.

“Stiles…” Derek warns. A hot blush is creeping up his cheeks.

“This cannot continue.” Chris points between them. “You cannot have a relationship while stationed together.”

“There’s nothing in department protocol that says we can’t. It’s just frowned upon.”

Argent shakes his head. “And, here I am greatly frowning upon it.”

Derek growls.

Stiles steps between the two men so as not to have another argument like they had the other day. “Why are you frowning on it? It’s so not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Chris emphasises.

“No, it’s not! It’s not like we’re going to shirk our duties and turn this into our personal sex den!”

“Stiles…” Derek hisses.

“I should hope not,” Chris forces an empty laugh. “Stiles, this whole situation worries me. I care about you.”

“And for once in your life would you care about ME?!” Derek shouts. He steps out from behind Stiles and moves toward Chris.

“Derek, I do care about you.”

“No, you don’t. You only care about yourself. You only care about your reputation and what people will think of you!”

“Derek, if you would just give me a chance…”

“Why should I? My life is miserable because of you. I finally, FINALLY, have something… someone who makes me happy and you take it upon yourself to try to end that too.”

“I’m not trying to put an end to it.” Chris shakes his head. “I just want to protect all involved.”

“But, you never protect, Chris! You only hurt!”

Stiles steps back, unsure of what he should do.

“I have never hurt you!”

“Maybe not on purpose, but you have!” Derek steps right up to Chris’ face. “Do you have any idea what it was like to have to live with the people who killed your entire family?!”

Chris steps back. Chest heaving, mouth opening, but no words coming out. He shakes his head. “You’ve always held that against me, Derek, but I wasn’t the one who killed your family! I’ve said it a thousand times, that fire was an accident!”

“The fire may have started as an accident, but when your sister arrived on the scene and didn’t even assess the situation before charging in like she knew everything…”

“My sister died that day too! She had no clue what she was doing would cause an explosion.”

“Exactly! So, I’ve devoted every day of my career to ensuring there won’t be any underprepared idiots causing havoc on my watch.”

Chris is absolutely fuming.

“I couldn’t blame her because she was dead. But when her selfless ‘hero’ of a brother decided it would help his conscience to foster the only surviving member of the Hale family, you bet I could certainly blame you!”

“And that’s not fair. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s also not fair for a twelve year old to have to go and live with the person who in his eyes slaughtered his entire family. Do you have any freaking idea how that felt?!”

“This is the exact reason this relationship worries me. Stiles shouldn’t be with a person who is still living their life through the eyes of a twelve year old!”

If people could roar, that would be the sound Derek makes as he knocks Chris to the ground. Stiles rushes in and pulls him back before he can actually punch him.

“Hey, hey, hey. Stop. Derek. Stop,” Stiles calls.

“You don’t get to tell me what eyes I should be seeing out of! If you hadn’t gone on with life and acted like everything was okay and instead actually helped me…” Derek throws his hands up in the air and Chris sits up with his back against the wall. “I never got closure. I never got help or therapy… All I had was you acting like everything would be fine if everyone saw us smiling, and I had my anger. I held onto that like a lifeline. It was all I had that I had any control over. So it built and grew. You say you wanted to help me but all I ever got from you was more anger. Anger was all I had and now I’ve turned into the person I am today! Congratulations. I’m the demon of Hale Hole!!!! It may not be what you wanted, but it’s what you got! All because you insisted on ‘rescuing’ me. I never had a chance. Do you think I want to be this way?!”

“Yes.” Chris nods. “Yes, actually I do. Because being like this prevents you from being hurt by anyone else. If no one gets close to you because they’re scared of you, then there’s no way for you to get hurt again.”

Derek sinks down and sits on the floor. Stiles kneels beside him and realizes he’s crying.

“I’m sorry.” Chris softly says. “I’m sorry that I thought more of myself than I thought of you. I honestly thought I was helping you. I can see that I didn’t help you. Derek, all I have ever wanted is to help you and make your life better. I’m sorry I failed so spectacularly in doing that.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispers. “You’re not this person you’re making yourself out to be. You’re a good guy. You’ve proven that to me. You don’t have to hold onto the anger anymore. Not the anger directed at Chris. Not the anger directed at others. The people who had nothing to do with the fire.”

Chris sits up and kneels closer to Derek. “I’m sorry, Derek. Please accept my apology. Not for me, but for yourself.”

Derek covers his face with his hands. Chris reaches out to him. He slowly hugs him, and he doesn’t pull away.

\---

It’s not like everything is magically fixed, but things seem better. Just a bit lighter. As soon as the shift ends, Derek and Stiles drive to a nearby Denny’s to meet Chris for breakfast. They eat in relative silence. Basically small talk, but the two men do agree to see an actual therapist in the near future.

Stiles quietly eats his pancakes, letting the others do most of the talking. But, midway through a bite he gasps.

Derek looks at him concerned, “You okay?”

“Oh my gosh.” Stiles shakes his head. “Allison is your sister.”

“Foster sister.”

“Oh my gosh. I talked about your sister’s perfect boobs in front of you!” Stiles shrieks.

Derek just smacks his hand over his face.

“Excuse me?” Chris asks.

“Nothing,” Derek assures. “It’s nothing.”


	14. Stealth Mode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took so long. I didn't have as much time to write over the holidays.

After some long conversation, Chris agrees not to forbid their relationship. He says they can remain stationed together until the new hires are trained as long as none of the other guys complain about it.

“Like that’s going to happen,” Stiles beams as they walk to the Camaro. “None of the guys are going to have the guts to stand up to you about your relationship if they don’t approve.”

“It’s just until he transfers the newest hire out, so don’t get too excited,” Derek gruffs.

Stiles smiles and reaches out to pat Derek’s arm. “You up for some cake?”

Derek laughs. “Stiles, we just ate breakfast.”

“So?”

\---

Stiles licks the frosting off of his disposable fork and drops it into the now empty cake container. “So,” he begins before picking up a donut and munching on it. “Mmmm, this new banana cream pie donut is amazing.” He swallows and clears his throat. “Anyway, what are your plans for the four day kelly?”

Derek shakes his head in amusement. “I’m not sure. I never really do much of anything.” He shifts his body on the picnic bench and looks out over the horizon.

“Since we’re like… officially dating now… do you want to, um, do something together?” Stiles shrugs his shoulders trying to come off as being nonchalant.

Derek is silent for a moment before saying “sure”.

Stiles smiles. “Okay.” He chews and swallows his last bite. Derek closes the lid of the donut box and pulls it to his side of the table before Stiles can reach back in for another. “Ha. Ha.” Stiles snarks. “I wasn’t going to eat anymore right now anyway.”

Derek raises his eyebrows at him.

“Okay, so maybe I was.” He shakes his head. “What do you want to do together?”

Derek ducks his head. “I’ll plan something.”

“Just tell me when and where.”

Derek stands up. He holds out his hand, and Stiles eagerly grabs it. They walk down the metal staircase and head back toward Derek’s car.

\---

Stiles nervously adjusts his shirt collar. He’s not used to getting dressed up like this. He hears the crunch of gravel and hurries to the window. He smiles when he sees Derek already walking up toward the house. He moves around the chair and rushes toward the door. He grabs it and swings it open.

“Hey!” he shouts joyously.

Derek growls as a response.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks. But, Derek seems to ignore him as he mutters under his breath, pushes Stiles backwards into the house, and grabs the door to pull it shut.

Stiles stands there dumbly wondering what just happened. Then, there’s a knock on the door. He slowly opens the door and is met with a smiling Derek. He pulls out some roses from behind his back and thrusts them into Stiles’ face.

“Thank you,” Stiles says.

“It’s good to see you. May I come in?” Derek states robotically.

“Sure!” Stiles slowly realizes what Derek is doing after a few minutes of clearly rehearsed conversation. “I’m sorry I almost ruined your grand entrance.”

Derek drops his head. “I’m sorry I slammed the door in your face. I had just practiced everything a certain way. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Stiles smiles. “You’re already perfect.”

Derek refuses to admit he blushes.

\---

Erica rushes into the sock shop just before closing time, and smirks at the teen who is now rolling their eyes because they won’t get to leave on time. She wants to find the perfect pair of socks for Boyd. Something to match his personality, yet something a bit more bold. She selects a bright green pair with macaroni and cheese characters square dancing. Perfect. She pays and makes her way out of the store.

The weather is nice, and she decides she might as well enjoy a short walk before heading home. By this time in the evening, most shops are closing, but she doesn’t mind just looking in the windows. There are a lot of new stores on this street that she hasn’t had a chance to look at yet.

She stops. Her eyes must be deceiving her. Across the street… in a fancy restaurant… at a table by the window… Erica rushes across the street and hides behind a parking meter. This has to be a mistake… It’s not who it looks like… But, then one of the people she is staring at throws their head back in a laugh that is just so ‘Stiles’... It can’t be. But, it is.

Derek is reaching across the table and taking Stiles’ hand in his own. Stiles looks away from him, smiling. He nods his head.

Erica watches as they get up from the table, pay for their food, and start walking toward the door. The door that is right in front of the parking meter Erica is hiding behind. She flails her arms and looks for a place to hide. She rushes to the left but realizes there is nothing good to hide behind. As Derek is opening the door for Stiles, Erica dashes back across the parking meter and lunges behind an SUV. She crouches down, hoping they walk in the opposite direction. No such luck. They’re heading right for her. She presses herself flat against the side of the car, arms stretched wide, and eyes shut. If she can’t see them, they can’t see her, right?

She mentally counts to ten before risking the slightest movement. “... eight… nine…”

“Uh…” a voice above her questions. “Ma’am?”

She opens her eyes and looks up. An elderly gentleman is looking down at her. “Oh, this your car?”

He nods.

“Sorry about that… I was…” She moves her arms up and down. “...measuring. Making sure my friend could fit. This is just the type of vehicle I’ve been looking for.” She smiles gently. “Excuse me!”

Erica quickly gets up and rushes back to the sidewalk. About a block ahead of her, she can see Stiles and Derek. Walking down the sidewalk. Holding hands. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She’s going to need evidence for Boyd to believe this.

  
  


\---

By the time the movie is over, it’s getting late. Derek drives Stiles back to his house and walks him to the door. They look at each other, both slightly nervous. Stiles is the first to speak. “It’s almost midnight. You…” he pauses as he laughs anxiously. “I mean… You can stay here if you don’t want to drive all the way back home.”

“My house is only about fifteen minutes away.”

Stiles blushes, “Oh, yeah… Of course…”

“But, it would still be nice to…”

“To what?”

“You know. Stay?”

Stiles’ eyes sparkle. “Yeah, sure.”

  
  


\---

Stiles has never slept so well in his life. Well, he didn’t actually get to sleep until about 3 am, but what sleep he actually got was amazing. The sleep he didn’t get was pretty amazing too. It takes him a moment to realize that something is annoyingly buzzing by his head. He huffs his frustration as he rolls out of Derek’s arms and reaches for his phone.

“ ‘Lo?”

“Stiles?”

“Erica? Why are you calling so early?”

“It’s 10 am.”

“Exactly.” He yawns. “What do you need?”

“Boyd and I were hoping you could hang out with us tonight. We’re going to watch Star Wars. Boyd has promised to make his famous mac and cheese for dinner.”

“Oh, uh,” Stiles turns onto his back and lies back down. “I’m sorry, Erica. I already have plans.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s fine.”

Stiles only talks for a minute or so more and then hangs up. He puts his phone down and then snuggles close to his sleeping boyfriend. He’s already starting to doze when Derek shifts and rolls over.

“What plans?” Derek mumbles.

Stiles smiles as Derek wraps his arms around him. He enjoys all the warmth and love he feels. “This. This is my plan.”

Derek gently presses a sleepy kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “You? In bed all day? Without eating? Never.”

Stiles smacks him. “RUDE!”


	15. First Class

It’s the last day of kelly, and Derek and Stiles haven’t been apart once. They’ve enjoyed every moment they’ve had together. Eating, watching movies, a hike that almost resulted in a sprained ankle but thankfully didn’t, eating, sleeping, “sleeping”... It’s been amazing. Stiles was looking forward to one last night alone together before going back to work, but Scott ruined that with his puppy dog eyes.

Darn you, FaceTime… Oh, who’s he kidding, he didn’t have to see Scott’s eyes to know that he’d say yes to anything he asked.

Scott is hosting a barbecue for Allison and her family. Within seconds of Stiles saying yes, Derek’s phone is ringing and Allison is asking him to please come.

“Your friend is crazy,” Derek says as he hangs up.

“Yeah I know, but how do you mean?” Stiles plops down into Derek’s lap.

“That was Ally,” Derek states. Stiles grins at the nickname. He doesn’t know why, but it just makes him happy when Derek uses a nickname for someone.

“Inviting you to the same barbecue Scott just asked me to?”

“Yes. She insists I be there because she’s positive Scott is going to propose.”

“WHAT?!” Stiles shrieks. “They’ve been together all of what… a few months?”

“And?”

“And, what? Isn’t that a little soon? Aren’t your big brother protective senses tingling?”

“I’d be a hypocrite if they were…”

Stiles sits up and looks at him. “Why?”

“Because we’ve been together even less time than them, and I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Stiles blushes. “Awwwwwwwwwww.” He nuzzles his face into Derek’s neck. “You’re pretty alright yourself.”

\---

  
  


“Crap! We’re going to be late,” Stiles squeaks as he forcefully whisks a bowl of flour.

“You’re the one who insisted on baking Scott’s favorite cookies,” Derek says as he steps into the kitchen.

Stiles looks up and sees Derek standing there shirtless. The fabric hanging in his hand. “No! Derek, no distractions.”

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls the shirt on over his head. “We won’t be that late, don’t worry about it.”

“Just go without me. I’ll be there as soon as these are baked.”

“There’s no need to go separately. I’ll wait for you.”

Stiles shakes his head, “No. Just go. I want you to make a good impression on Scott and I know Scott wants to make a good impression on you. No need to ruin that because I’m slow. Just go. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

Derek nods. “Okay.” He leans in and kisses Stiles. “Love you.”

Stiles beams. “Love you, too.”

\---

Stiles rushes up the front steps and lets himself into his friend’s house. “Scotty!”

Scott rushes through the house to the entry. “Stiles, thank goodness you’re here. I need my bro for backup.”

Stiles shakes his head. “I come bearing cookies.”

“I don’t need cookies, I need you. I’m freaking out here. What if she says no?”

“Oh gosh, dude.” Stiles puts the cookies down on the kitchen counter as they pass by. “You’re actually going to propose?!”

“SHHHHH!!!!! It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Dude, you’re sweating so much I can see the Amazon and Nile forming underneath your pits. She either knows you’re going to propose or she thinks you’ve got the stomach flu!”

Scott pouts. Those eyes…

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s not that bad. I’m sure she will be totally surprised.”

They walk out the back door onto the deck. Scott asks Stiles to stay there as he rushes off to find Allison. Stiles can see Derek standing at the grill trying to act nice as Chris carries the conversation. Stiles smiles softly and waves when Derek notices him.

“This is Allison!” Scott thrusts her in front of Stiles.

Stiles smiles. “Hey, Allison,” Stiles greets. “It’s good to see you… again.” He looks pointedly at his friend.

“Oh yeah,” he blushes, “you’ve met at the station before. I forgot.”

“I’m the reason you even know she exists, dude.”

Scott growls a bit. “Okay, fine. Let me introduce you to everyone else.”

“I already know Chris, by the way.” Stiles smirks. “Just to save you the time…”

He flinches as Scott smacks him.

“Just, come here.” Scott grabs his arm and drags him across the backyard. “I’ll introduce you to Allison’s brother. He’s super nice. I’ve only known him for a little bit, but he seems super nice. Isn’t that great?! He might actually approve.”

“Awesome.”

They walk up to the grill.

“Hey, Chief,” Stiles greets.

“Stiles, this is D…”

Stiles ignores everything Scott is saying and steps toward Derek. He pulls him in for a kiss. It’s not anything too sexy, but it’s by no means chaste either. Chris just rolls his eyes.

When he pulls away, he can see Scott’s shocked face. His mouth is moving, but no sounds are coming out.

“Buddy,” Stiles claps his hand on Scott’s shoulder. “This is Derek. As in, Derek, my partner at the station.”

“You...you… you just kissed him.”

“Yeah, he’s also my boyfriend.”

Scott shakes his head and looks between them. “But, didn’t you say he was a…”

Stiles smacks his hand across Scott’s mouth. “Nope. Pretty sure I didn’t.”

Scott pulls away. “No, I specifically remember you saying he was a big dick.”

Stiles shrugs, seeing the chance to make his friend squirm. “No, I actually said he HAS a big…”

“Food’s ready!!!” Chris and Derek shout in unison.

\---

The first day back to work is uneventful, but their day off is anything but. There’s a fire so large and out of control there is a call back for anyone off duty to come in and support those who are on duty that have exhausted themselves in the fight. Of course, Derek and Stiles both head in. It’s a long, miserable day that turns into a long, miserable night. The fire is finally out with only a few hours left before their actual shift starts. The duo loads up their gear and hauls it to headquarters. If they have any hopes of having their gear washed, dried, and ready to go for their shift, they have to get started asap.

Stiles reaches into the industrial washer and pulls out his gear. He hangs it on the metal hangers in the wash room and slides it over to the heating vent in the floor. He startles as Erica pops her head into the room.

“Hey, old friend.”

“Hey, Erica,” Stiles replies as he finishes up and walks toward her.

“I say ‘old’ friend, because we haven’t actually hung out in ages.”

Stiles slumps. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy making googly eyes at Hale, am I right?” Erica huffs.

Stiles freezes. “What?!” He pulls her into the laundry room. “What do you… How do you… When?”

“I should ask you the same thing!” She jabs her finger into his chest. “What are you thinking, Stiles?!”

Stiles shakes his head. “He’s really nice once you get to know him. He’s kind and considerate. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted! He makes me happy.”

“Says the man who left work crying more than once because of what mister kind and considerate said and did to him.” She puts her hands on her hips in a way that reminds him of Lydia. He misses her. Misses her support. Misses that cake he never got to eat…

“Erica, I know that it sounds crazy, but I’m in love with him. He’s in love with me. I’ve spent every day with him for the past week, and it’s been amazing. I could really use your support in this.”

Erica deflates a little. She nods. “Of course, I support you, dummy! You’re my best friend.” She waves her arms. “But,” she whispers, “does anyone else know that you’re dating your partner?!”

“Oh,” a voice from behind them causes them to spin around. “They do now.” Jackson backs away from the door already calling the rest of the crew to the apparatus room.

  
  
  


\---

The jerk, as always, tries to start a ruckus. Boyd has joined Stiles and Erica, but it still pretty much looks like it’s three against the world.

“Sleeping with your partner isn’t allowed!” Jackson shouts.

“It’s not NOT allowed,” Stiles growls. “It’s just frowned upon!”

The argument gets heated from there. The two of them going back and forth at one another, voices rising as they go and devolving into mocking words of “cry baby” from Jackson and “lizard-breath” from Stiles.

  
  


Suddenly, Derek appears, fresh from the shower. Fully clothed, but hair still dripping water in a few places and rolling down his neck. He stands at the top of the stairs that overlook the apparatus room and takes in the scene before him. He simply crosses his arms and clears his throat. When the group of firemen turn to look at him, he speaks. “Problem here?”

He slowly struts down the stairs. If Stiles weren’t so mad at Jackson right now, he’d be cumming in his pants at the glorious sight of Derek totally owning those stairs. Derek approaches the group of men, and like the Red Sea parting, they scurry back to easily let him pass through to Jackson.

Now Jackson and many of the other men take their appearances very seriously. Becoming a fireman is like an added ego boost for those ripped guys who are so full of themselves. Narcissistic jerks. But, compared to the mountain of a man that is Derek Hale, they pale in comparison.

“Yes, there’s a problem!” Jackson whirls around, eyes coming only to the tops of Derek’s shoulders at most. He glances up into the eyes of the man currently towering over him. “Um…” He backs away, but Derek places a firm hand on his shoulder.

“A word,” Derek murmurs as he leads Jackson to the back side of one of the trucks. One hand on his shoulder and the other on the truck totally keeping him in place, Derek leans in just enough so none of the others can hear him. “Just because you’re still too scared to admit you’ve had a thing for Mahealani over there,” Derek nods his head in the direction of the guys before continuing, “for what… four years now? It doesn’t mean that you get to be a complete douche and ruin everyone else’s lives. We both know you’re too much of a wuss to do anything to me, but if you say or do anything to humiliate Stiles again… Heck, if you do anything to humiliate ANY of the guys ever again, I will slowly and terrifyingly hunt you down, rip your throat out… with my teeth… and actually put the station’s dumpster to good use this time. Do you understand me?”

Jackson walks back to the group of guys. Stiles can’t help but notice he’s as white as a sheet and his eyes are so wide and hollow that he looks like a piece of his soul has died a little. Stiles looks up at him as Derek nears him and puts his arm around his shoulders. “What did you say to him?” Stiles whispers.

Derek just smiles and looks out over the sea of faces. “Anyone else have a problem?” The rest of the jerks in the station scurry faster than a bunch of rats, while the good guys just stand there and laugh and high five each other that someone finally put Jackson in his place. “Didn’t think so.”

  
  


\------

Stiles is thrilled when he finds out he’s finally becoming a first class firefighter. No longer probational. No longer a trainee. A full fledged fireman first class. He bounces through the station all day long. Derek, on the other hand, is moody. Retreating into his old grumpy shell.

The next day, Stiles begs him to accompany him to the City Hall meeting. “Please, Der, I just want you to see me get sworn in. And Chris promised me I could choose any station I wanted, remember? How great is that?! The other guys would kill for that chance!”

As much as Derek hates the feeling of losing Stiles to one of the better stations… Station 2 that always gets to partner with the schools for fire prevention, or Station 3 that has the amazing tv room, or Headquarters where Stiles would be able to hang with his friends all day between runs… (What does Station 4 have to offer? A popcorn machine and a billiard’s table with three missing balls???)... he gives in and goes with Stiles to the meeting. It’s a big day for the boy after all.

He mopes through the boring meeting. When Stiles is called forward, he smiles at him but sinks a little lower in his seat. He watches through sad eyes as Stiles raises his hand, takes his official oath, and receives his new silver badge. Stiles beams at Derek and comically points to his new badge. Derek gives him a weak thumb’s up.

“Stiles,” Chris states. “I promised you your choice of stations. Where are you requesting?”

Stiles smiles at Chris but returns his gaze to Derek. His eyes lock on to Derek’s, and he nods. “I’m going to choose Station 4, Sir.” Stiles blushes as Derek’s demeanor changes. Finally happy for the first time all day.

Chris groans while trying to stay professional. “Of course, you are.” He looks over at his foster son and can see the smile breaking out on his face. Genuine. In love. Healing. He nods and looks back to Stiles. “Good choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!!!! I'm sorry the last few chapters took so long, but I got super busy at work and life got crazy! I love this world I have created and am so happy with these two silly boys.


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